


Inside The Mask

by DaniDarth



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Darth Vader Redemption, Established Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, F/M, POV Darth Vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniDarth/pseuds/DaniDarth
Summary: Darth Vader lived within the confines of his suit for fifteen years, only to discover he had been lied to all along.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Darth Vader
Comments: 106
Kudos: 197





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars  
> A/N: This is a new one that I will try to update as often as possible. I hope you enjoy.

Darth Vader’s world always had a reddish hue, as did the Jedi that knelt at his feet, clutching at his throat.

“Tell me what is your mission, Jedi!” It was curious how his voice sounded so different inside his own helmet. While others heard the deep, menacing voice, Vader heard his own, the old one. Furiously pounding against his ears in contrast to what the voice synthesizer transmitted. It was as if he was listening to himself and his shadow speaking at the same time. In the beginning it was horrid, but he had long accustomed to it.

His grip grew tighter on the Jedi’s windpipe. The Dark Lord wondered if he knew who he had been before he was engulfed by the flames of Mustafar. Darth Vader knew very well who this Jedi was. Caleb Dume. He went by a different name now. Vader was not the only one who had let his former self perish with the rise of the Empire.

He loosened his Force hold on the Jedi, to allow him to speak. Vader was sure he would say nothing. He took a deep breath, it echoed ominously across the hangar. The Jedi still sported an air of defiance. The Sith Apprentice grew impatient.

“You might as well kill me now,” the Jedi spoke between ragged breaths, “I will never tell you anything.”

Vader’s Force choke tightened again and he raised his arm. With it the Jedi rose as well; his feet furiously searching for ground and his hands desperately attempting release from the invisible hand that was sucking the air out of him.

He wasn’t going to talk, Jedi rarely did. He pondered briefly whether to take him alive or end him right then and there. He ended up deciding on the latter. His hold tightened a little more and a little more and he watched as the reddish hue on the Jedi’s lips turned purple. Darth Vader was taking his time. He could have crushed his trachea a long time ago, but when he was fueled by anger he liked watching them squirm.

“Anakin!” a soft familiar voice came from behind him. This was a most inconvenient time for a daydream. He often heard her voice. It kept reminding him of how much she would hate the man… no… the _thing_ he had become. Vader watched as the Jedi began growing limp from lack of air.

_Almost done. Just a little bit longer and then you can go back to hating yourself._

“Anakin! Please let him go!” she repeated. He couldn’t let him go. There was no turning back. There was no fixing the mistakes he had made. Vader chose the Dark Side and he would have to hold on to it. There was no other path for him now.

He felt a soft hand with a strong grip squeezing his upper arm. The flesh part of it. He looked down and what he saw startled him so that he accidentally let the Jedi fall limply on the floor, just before he was able to squeeze the little remaining life out of him.

She ran towards the unconscious body of the Jedi kneeling next to him and putting her fingers on his wrist, checking for a pulse. Vader knew he had one still. When she realized the same she ran a gentle hand through the Jedi’s hair.

“You’ll be alright Kanan,” she spoke to the unconscious Jedi and stood.

She looked deeply into his eyes, as if she could see beyond the helmet. She said nothing though, and he said nothing either. He couldn’t fathom putting a sentence together.

The only noise that filled that small hangar was the harsh wind bellowing and his long, rhythmic, mechanical breaths.

She walked silently and slowly towards him. Darth Vader was frozen. _Was this real?_

He heard noises from behind him but she raised a hand and they stopped immediately. “He won’t hurt me”, she said, never taking her eyes off of him, “will you, Anakin?”

The Dark Lord felt his legs weakening, but his metallic knees would not budge. He felt he should be shaking but his prosthetic fingers would not respond. He could not utter a word.

“It’s me Anakin.” She closed the distance between them and looked up at him. He had never seen her from this angle. He was so much taller now and she seemed so small. He inspected her reddish hued face. She was different. She was never different in his dreams.

Her long curly hair was much shorter, held by a simple bun. Streaks of gray mixed between her chocolate locks. Some wrinkles had settled around her eyes, and mouth. She wore white, like she did that day on Geonosis. She was more beautiful than ever.

Darth Vader’s heart beat furiously against his chest; he could hear it, feel it pounding against his scorched and scarred skin.

“Anakin?” She asked now, placing a hand carefully on his stomach.

“That’s not my name.” He answered in his made up voice, startling her. She took a step back, flinching. He didn’t mean to sound like that, his old voice pronounced the words softly, he could hear it inside his prison.

She gathered her courage, the look on her eyes was the same as it was so long ago when she was about to do something brave.

He was reminded of why he had loved her so much.

She stepped forward again and closed their distance, looking up at him, inside his mask, inside his mind.

“Padmé,” he finally said. The voice in his head was but a whisper, the voice that came out was only nearing softness.

“If you let these people go, I will come with you.” Padmé offered. Behind the mask Darth Vader tried to smile, but couldn’t. He had lost that ability long ago. He heard protests from those who still stood behind them, but with the lift of a hand she silenced them.

The Sith waved a hand, indicating the door to his ship. Padmé looked around and stood, just for a moment. Then, with resolve, she headed the way to the ship and Darth Vader trailed behind her.

That day, no one died.


	2. No Man's Puppet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quarentine and I'm on a roll. I hope you enjoy!

To bring her back to the place where he almost choked the life out of her was not meant to serve as some sort of punishment or sick, twisted torture. Mustafar was merely convenient.

Vader considered the harsh volcanic planet to be his birthplace, there also laid the grave of the man he had been. He built his castle there, a tall, dark menacing tower. It mirrored the thing he had become: tall, dark, menacing and empty.

It was likely some sort of self-punishment, but that was the only place the Sith Lord felt at home and it was filled with the power of the Dark Side. It fed his hatred, his wish for vengeance, not only for the life of physical pain that he had been condemned to live, but also for the death of his wife.

But now she wasn’t dead anymore.

Now what would his purpose be? Who was there still left to avenge? Who would he hate now?

They sat at the large black table that stood in the middle of the dark, unused dining room. A plate of uneaten food was laid before her and she stared at it absentmindedly. The heat of it had long dissipated.

The Sith wondered what to do with her. He couldn’t decide. He just looked at her, to make sure she was real. If she hadn’t been acknowledged by the protocol droid, Vader would still believe she was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

Fifteen years was too long, far too long.

He just wanted to look at her, observe her. He had long ago forgotten the tiny details of her face, the mole on her cheek, the line of her eyebrows, the length of her eyelashes. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of her ever again; he wished he could see her without the crimson hue of the lenses on his mask.

The Dark Lord watched her as she began twiddling with the japor snippet that still hung around her neck.

He remembered so well when he carved it. He remembered presenting it to her; he remembered when she said she would never forget him. He remembered it so well, even though it was a lifetime ago; even though neither of them was the same person.

A sharp pain tugged at his heart. She had lost something, a brightness in her eyes that was no longer there, replaced by a deep rooted sadness.

He knew her; he knew she tried to hide it. But, as she could see within his mask, he could see beyond hers.

He also knew he was the one who destroyed that part of her.

How would he ever forgive himself?

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know, Anakin?” Padmé asked, breaking the long silence.

“That name means nothing anymore.” Darth Vader replied, carefully, as to not unwillingly sound too harsh.

The answer garnered him a cold scoff. “You can tell that to everyone, if you like. But your lies don’t fool me. If that name means nothing, then why would you bring me here?”

Why indeed? He did not know. He did know that Anakin didn’t exist anymore. The only remnant of him was the voice that echoed in his helmet, and no one but himself could hear it. His body, his mind, his soul… they were all dead.

“Are you working with the Rebel Alliance?” Darth Vader thought that would be what he was supposed to ask.

“Of course I am.” She answered without a moment’s hesitation. Then she pushed the untouched plate away and leaned over the table, resting her elbows and arms on it, carefully resting her right hand over her left, looking deeply into his hidden eyes. “But that’s not what you want to know.”

It wasn’t, of course.

“A brave answer.” Darth Vader commented. She had always been a courageous woman.

Padmé sat back on her chair once more, handling the japor snippet again. “It’s easy to be brave when you have nothing left to lose.”

She paused and looked at her necklace, observing its carvings. Vader remembered it was supposed to bring her good fortune. It saddened him to know that it had brought her nothing but pain.

“But you know that, don’t you?” she asked, looking up at him again. “Is that why you wear that suit? Because all you have left is your pain? We both know there are treatments to your… conditions.”

Darth Vader did not answer. She was right. The pain was all he had. There was no place in him for love, joy or pleasure. Not anymore. He wanted to feel pain because he longed to feel _something._ It was all that gave him power, it made him hate more deeply, more ferociously.

And he deserved it. The things he did haunted his dreams; he couldn’t stop the nightmares that troubled him every time he closed his eyes. He would give up sleeping altogether if it wouldn’t kill him. He was not ready to die yet. Darth Vader still searched for his revenge; only then would he be ready to depart.

But now, she was sitting before him. Alive. Was it not what he always wanted? Hadn’t he sold his soul for that, regardless of the consequences?

What was there left to seek revenge for?

“Or does he force you to wear it?” Padmé asked. “Is that how he controls you? Is that how he continues keeping you as his puppet?”

The Dark Lord of the Sith felt a wave of heat rising across his body and settling on his cheeks. His heart began pumping his blood with hatred. His eyes, behind the mask, began glowing a deep shade of gold. He clenched his fists tightly, the pain sensors on his cybernetic hand raging for him to stop.

He punched the table with such force the leg under his hand broke. From the crooked table, Padmé’s plate slid onto the floor, breaking as soon as it hit the ground. But Padmé did not move; she did not flinch. Her eyes were set on him, defying him to tell her she was wrong.

_She was not wrong._

“I am no man’s puppet!” Vader spat, lying and aware of his falsehood.

Was he lying to her or to himself?

“It’s amusing that you think so.” She answered; her voice was cold and poisonous. “He played you. You know that. He’s still playing you. What did he tell you? That you could save me from your dreams? That you could prevent me from dying? He lied. He deceived you. He used you to kill the Jedi, to get rid of his enemies. He is still using you. That’s all you are: a tool.”

Vader stood and paced about the room. He felt an urge to strangle her… again. He did not, he would not.

“Are you trying to get me to kill you?” Vader asked. His mechanical breath sounded faster than usual.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you tried.”

It was like she stabbed him in the heart. He never meant to kill her; he never meant to hurt her. He loved her.

Darth Vader took his seat at the broken table once more, attempting to subdue his anger. He regarded her carefully. She sat very straight, her hands on her lap. Padmé was still looking at him. Her eyes pierced into him, into his very soul.

“Ask it!” she demanded.

Darth Vader knew the pretense was useless. She knew what he wanted to know.

“How did you survive?” he finally gave in, releasing his fists’ grip.

“Obi-Wan and Yoda saved me, with the Force. So you see? All you had to do, Anakin, was trust the people who loved you.”

The Lord of the Sith looked down at his feet. Shame overflowed him; so much shame. He felt dirty; he felt everything about him was polluted, defiled. How did he do it? Destroy everything he ever touched?

No one hated him more than himself.

“What of the child?” Darth Vader asked, not expecting an answer.

“Even if I knew, I would not tell you.” Padmé replied and he knew her to be truthful.

The room fell silent. The whooshing of his breathing filled it.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The sound that haunted him, day and night, every day, for the last fifteen years.

A door opened, breaking the circle of rhythmic, perfectly timed sounds. “My Lord, a transmission from the Emperor”.

His Master beckoned and the Apprentice obeyed. He always obeyed.

“Show our guest to her chambers.” Vader ordered his servant and he left the room, leaving his wife behind.


	3. Yes, My Master

Darth Vader took a moment before entering the room where he would receive the Emperor’s holotransmission. He needed to calm himself, raise the shields of his mind. Palpatine could not find out about Padmé. He could not sense how much his Apprentice wanted to kill him, to suck the life of that old carcass.

He was hesitating. The emotions he felt were so many and so confusing he feared he could not control or hide them.

Yet, he had to.

Sidious would certainly ask him about his mission. How would he justify returning home empty handed? He had to come up with a story, a believable one.

He thanked the Force he went alone and took no stormtroopers with him. There were no witnesses to eliminate. It was one less thing for him to be concerned about.

The Sith Apprentice drew up a story in his mind and repeated it several times in a whisper. If he convinced himself it was true, perhaps the Emperor would not sense his deceit.

He opened the door and entered. His step was steady and fast as it always was. Vader’s cape flew behind him as he walked. The communications technician flinched as he always did upon catching sight of his Lord.

The hologram of the Emperor already flickered, providing the black room with a bluish tint that reflected from the polished marble walls.

There he stood, in all his pettiness, with a royal and disgusting air to him. Darth Sidious was certainly a vile creature, in all respects.

Darth Vader got down on one knee and bowed his head, resting his arms on his leg. He heard the technician leave behind him and the door sliding closed. They were left alone, as always.

It had never been so hard for him to kneel down before Palpatine. He had been doing it for so long. Only yesterday it made sense; he had been an Apprentice paying respect to his Master. Today, it only seemed like he was humiliating himself at the feet of the man who destroyed his life; the vile creature who took everything he ever held dear.

_Liar. Sniveling little sand snake. Did he know all along?_

How he hated him! How he wish he could unleash his rage on that old deformed demon.

Darth Vader’s pride and hatred could not take it. But he had to pretend. For Padmé.

This time, he would not fail her. He could _not_ fail her.

“My Master.” The Apprentice said, his mind’s shields concealing his true thoughts. He tried to shun the mental image of him piercing his lightsaber through the Emperor’s heart. Yet, it was just too enticing.

The Emperor smiled, raised his hands in feigned friendship. “Lord Vader, were you able track down the Jedi?”

“Yes, my Master.” He replied, looking down at the dark, refined floor. “He managed to escape. I was ambushed by a group of rebels and was forced to retreat.” The Sith Lord recounted the story he had rehearsed in his mind and gazed up at his Master.

_Perhaps he should just separate his head from his body._

The condescending smile that had adorned the Emperor’s deformed features was now gone, replaced by an ugly scowl.

Vader thought back of their past. He could remember him from the time when, to him, he was only Chancellor Palpatine. For some reason, he couldn’t see it back then, but he had always been like this.

One moment he was a perfectly amiable man, kind, friendly and understanding; almost fatherly. However, suddenly, his voice would turn so cold he could freeze Mustafar’s lava with only one word.

The role the old Chancellor assumed as he grew up was a paternal one. Before he became his Master he fed on his youth’s naivety, on his frustrations and insecurities. He fueled them, telling him what he wanted to hear, offering false solutions and easy escapes.

It was nothing but a ruse. And he still used it. That fake smile and feigned care; as if Darth Sidious was capable of anything that remotely resembled sympathy, friendship or love.

At least, not towards someone other than himself.

Yes, the Master had been playing with his Apprentice for almost thirty years; an entire lifetime.

_If he tried Force choking him right at that moment, would it reach the Imperial City?_

The Dark Lord’s Apprentice would never forget that fateful night at the Opera. He knew that was the day the seed was finally planted in his mind. Only the Dark Side could help him save his wife. Only through its power could he be strong enough to prevent his dreams from coming true; only the power of the Dark Side could prevent him from failing his wife, like he had failed his mother.

For all these years he believed that it _would_ be possible, had he not taken her life.

He believed it were his mistakes that killed her.

Palpatine was the one who told him that Padmé was dead and he believed him.

But he didn’t kill Padmé. She was alive. Saved by the Light Side of the Force. She was rescued by the very people he tried to destroy; by the very teachings he was led to despise so deeply.

Darth Vader was a fool.

Suddenly all of Vader’s life was losing its meaning. All that he did was for nothing. Until now, he thought he had tried and failed. But after knowing what truly happened he began wondering if his Master always intended for Padmé to die, so he could make him his attack dog on a leash.

He felt so stupid. So, so gullible!

“That his most unfortunate, Lord Vader.” The hologram replied coolly. “The remaining Jedi must not be allowed to survive!”

“Yes, my Master.” Behind his mask Darth Vader clenched his jaw as he pronounced the words, but his rage grew. “I will resume the search for the Jedi at once.”

“Good, good!” The Sith smiled again.

_Liar!_

“My friend,” the old man’s voice seemed kind. Vader knew it to be deceitful. The Sith Lord’s only friend was himself. “I sense you are troubled.”

Darth Vader wanted to kill him. _If only he could._ “I am upset, Master. I have failed my mission.” He lied, still on his knee.

“You will soon find him, Lord Vader. Every day we are closer to the complete annihilation of the Jedi. And then the Sith will finally rule the Galaxy unopposed and only then will peace reign over the Empire.” The old man said, his voice raising at each syllable, his deformed features twisting into a smile that could never possibly bring anyone joy. It was a wide, decrepit smile, filled with greed and pain and hate; a smile that Darth Vader very much wanted to wipe off his Master’s face.

“Yes, my Master.” He replied, once again, hopefully for the last time, as the hologram finally disappeared.

Vader finally rose to his mechanical feet. He always felt trapped in that suit, but suddenly he couldn’t handle it. He needed to take it off.

Now!

He felt his mask closing in on him, smothering him. His heartbeat rose frantically. He could feel it thumping desperately in his chest. Tears stung behind his eyes.

He ran across the halls of his castle. All of it was so incredibly overwhelming.

He couldn’t take it. Not anymore.

It seemed like an endless walk until he reached the medical bay. The bacta tank stood in the middle of it.

The droid helped Vader out of his suit and prosthetics and into the tank. And even though he was only half a man, inside those glass walls, with a respirator stuck to his face, was the only place he could feel a semblance of freedom; a small ease to his constant and unbearable pain.

The Sith Lord fell asleep but his relief was short-lived. His nightmares haunted him; they were worse that night than they had ever been.

Vader was in the Jedi Temple again, killing Jedi, slaying children.

He was in Tatooine slaughtering a village of Tusken Raiders.

He returned to Mustafar and strangled Padmé again.

Darth Vader watched himself burning in the molten lava of his home planet. He saw Obi-Wan close to tears saying that he loved him.

He saw himself butchering Mace, Jax, Shyrne, Kento, Ar’ya and so many more, so many whose names and faces he had long forgotten.

He witnessed the monster he had become and wished that the Force would take him and end his pain.

But it would give him no such relief, for soon Darth Vader was awake again, still alive, still crippled, still broken.

The Dark Lord of the Sith put on his prosthetics again. They were flawed, painful and misfitted. Every step he took was agonizing. He relied on the Force for walking alone. They tugged on his outdated suit’s wiring. The suit and the prosthetics constantly gave him wounds and infections; he was never completely healed when something else appeared.

Everything that kept him alive had been made to cause him pain.

Darth Sidious had made it so. It made Vader a much more powerful ally.

He had always been aware of that. But, until now, he welcomed the pain. Nevertheless, at that moment, as he was being inserted into his claustrophobic personal dungeon, he wasn’t certain anymore. Perhaps he didn’t have to hurt every moment of every day. He knew he still deserved it, for none of his actions could be undone.

But maybe, just maybe, he could have some peace. Perhaps one day he could sleep; perchance one day he wouldn’t have to be hungry and thirsty all the time; or perhaps he could breathe fresh air and feel the wind on his skin.

Now he had Padmé. Everything had changed.


	4. But Still, He Let Her

The Dark Lord found himself standing at Padmé’s door. For some reason, he was unable to enter. He put his hand on the door, but could not knock. He had been with her just the night before, but, for an unknown motive, he wasn’t able to face her; he was so ashamed. How would he ever deserve of a single word from her, after all that he had done?

The nightmares he had just woken up from still lingered in his mind. He was used to those night terrors, but this time it was different, this time he didn’t seem to be able to find any sort of occupation to distract him from his haunting thoughts.

Vader didn’t understand what was happening to him.

So much had changed over the last day; it wasn’t just because he discovered his Padmé alive.

Something had changed within him; something that was destroying him from the inside out; such guilt, such shame as he had never felt before.

How could he think himself worthy of being in her presence? In the presence of the woman he had once called his wife; with whom he shared every part of him; with whom he had created life. Life he would never know.

But her husband was dead. And she could never love the man who had been reborn from Anakin Skywalker’s ashes. Darth Vader was no man; he was a beast.

He put his gloved cybernetic hand on the door, caressing its surface, silently. He shouldn’t go in; he would only defile her; the place where she stood, the room which her very presence brightened.

Yet, he needed to see her. He did not know why, or what he would say. But he lacked the courage to step forward; he did not know yet what that would entail. And it frightened him; it terrified so much.

How would it all be, now that he had decided to turn his back on his Master; now that he had no reason to remain?

Darth Sidious would certainly come for them; Vader knew it. He sensed something was different.

He could not fail her.

Taking a deep mechanical breath, the Dark Lord entered the room where Padmé had been staying.

Like the rest of the castle, it was a dark, sad place. The black of the walls and floor made it so cold.

Vader never worried about having an inviting home; he wished for no guests. He enjoyed his solitude; it gave him time to torture himself, as he should.

A fire was lit in the fireplace across the bed, yet it was burning alone. She was at the balcony, admiring Mustafar’s beautiful and deadly currents of lava, with her elbows resting on the dark, metal railing.

Darth Vader settled next to her and looked across the landscape. How was it possible that something that held such beauty could be so painful and deadly?

He admired that view often; he always remembered that day, the day he burned. The day he died. He remembered the day he lost his brother. Vader hated Obi-Wan so much for what he had done to him; for leaving him there to die.

His former Master had betrayed him; their friendship, the moments they had shared together since he was a boy.

But then… then he saved Padmé.

How could he still continue to hate him?

Hadn’t it all been his own fault, after all? Wasn’t he just too blinded by the Dark Side to see it?

“Did you tell him I was here?” Padmé asked, interrupting Vader’s wandering thoughts.

“No.” He replied, quite simply. He would never do anything else to hurt her, ever again. The Dark Lord had done enough. “Why did you turn yourself in?”

Padmé looked at him, just for a moment, and then turned her gaze back to the flames of Mustafar. “Because you were killing my friend.”

Vader allowed himself a sneer; he always knew she could not look him in the eyes when she lied. “Who is lying now?”

The Sith awaited a reply, but received none. She just stared at the molten rock, flowing through the canals, as if it was dancing against the shadowy background of the sky. It truly was a sight to behold.

To him, however, it was an agonizing spectacle. He averted his eyes from it, wishing he could leave and wondering why he ever came.

He observed Padmé, she had loosened her hair; it reached her shoulders now. He remembered the time when it cascaded down her back; Vader felt an urge to touch it. He could not. “What do you want from me?” he asked her, listening to his old voice speaking in his ears, louder than ever.

Padmé finally turned her gaze from the scenery and regarded him carefully. Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness settled into her features. She reached out her hand and touched him on his chest with a soft caressing motion.

His heart fluttered, like it hadn’t in so many years. He felt a tear running down his cheek, inside his mask. “I will do anything, anything you want.” Vader said. He would. Anything she wanted he would give to her.

“I want to see your face.” She said it like a plea. A plea to see his scarred and burnt face, a face that had been seen by so very few people over the last fifteen years; a face that wasn’t his own anymore.

He _was_ the mask. Inside the mask laid the tomb of Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, beloved friend, son, husband and father, killed by himself in a fit of rage and fear. “Please.” Padmé asked, as silent tears streamed down her cheeks, the small wrinkles around her eyes accentuated by her suffering.

“I will die without it.” Vader offered, carefully.

“Just for a moment.” She didn’t wait for his permission as she reached up and with delicate hands began detaching the helmet. He didn’t stop her.

A small swooshing was heard as the air that was confined within his prison finally broke free. Padmé carefully placed the helmet on the ground next to them, before rising to detach the mask from the neck piece and placing it on the floor.

She stood and looked at him, into his eyes. He could see her with her true colors, the slight tan of her skin and the chocolate shade of her eyes. He also felt the air being sucked from his damaged lungs. His breathing was ragged and difficult, the air would not enter his airways as it was supposed to.

Yet, still, he let her touch the prominent scar on his right cheek and look at him, cupping his face in her warm hands. How he missed her soft touch, her smile and her laughter.

“They’re blue.” She remarked softly, stifling down a sob and smile at the same time. He didn’t know. He knew the last time she saw him, he had been so consumed with the Dark Side that his eyes were the Sith’s yellow. But Vader hadn’t looked in a mirror in fifteen years.

He began feeling himself weakening and lightheaded. The air wasn’t enough, he knew he was dying. But he still let her continue to touch his deformed face, as he rested his back against the wall and slid down to the floor, sitting. He couldn’t even stand anymore.

His life was leaving him.

But still, he let her, for he would do anything for her.

She knelt next to him and pushed his face against her chest, cradling him, crying; crying so much.

“Are you going to let me die?” he managed to ask, in between the short breaths his body allowed him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Anakin!” Padmé rested her chin on his head and rocked him against her chest as she wept, now uncontrollably, “Why did you do this? Why?” she kept asking, between her pleas for forgiveness.

She was killing him. But he let her.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, his real voice a mere whisper, the other voice nowhere to be heard. He felt her nodding against him. “Yes,” her whisper almost inaudible.

He was fading, but still, he let her.

“I’m sorry.” He said with the little bit of energy he had in him. He closed his eyes, ready to leave and be united with the Force, his last true companion.

He still felt the heat of her chest leaving him and her gentle hands cupping his face. He could yet hear her, as if she was so far away. “No, no, no, no! I can’t! I’m sorry, I can’t! There’s good in you, Anakin!” She said. “I know there is good in you.”

And he felt himself being encaged once more, the mask and the helmet and the dreaded sound of his breathing.

Darth Vader opened his eyes and his world had a red hue, again.

She wouldn’t let him go. But he would have let her.


	5. The Chosen One, Indeed

Silently they sat on the cold floor. A gust of hot Mustafar wind brushed through Padmé’s hair, throwing her curly locks over her face, covering her tear stained cheeks and reddish eyes.

She was so much more beautiful than he remembered.

Vader knew she tried to kill him. Yet, somehow, it didn’t matter. What mattered is that she couldn’t.

As he sat, catching his breath, he dared not think that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to love the monster he had become. What would he have to do? What mountains would he have to move? Anything. He would do anything.

He looked at her as she pulled her hair off her face, cleaned the remnants of her tears with her white sleeve and stood up, putting her elbows on the railing again. “Will you kill him for me?” She asked, without looking at the man she had once loved.

He would, that he could. He had been trying to find a way, for so long; and he had been failing ever since he started trying. For many years Darth Vader attempted to fulfill the Sith’s tradition and become the Master. But, alas, it hadn’t been possible yet.

Now, suddenly, overthrowing his Master meant nothing. He wanted to kill him, certainly, maybe more than ever. But not for power or greed, but because of what he had made him. Vader wanted to kill his Master because of his lies, because he was tired of being controlled and manipulated, because he had robbed him of his life and of everything he cared for.

“I can’t.” he replied, not bothering standing up and resting the back of his helmet against the wall. “Obi-Wan didn’t just cut my limbs. My connection with the Force was greatly diminished after our… battle.” The Sith replied, struggling to find the right word.

He still remembered it, the Force, when it came so easily to him. Darth Vader was still impressively allied with it, but before, it was just so natural. He used to feel so powerful. He recalled how the Force felt inside him; it was like a heavy current, a river that smashed any obstacle that it encountered. If felt commanding, overwhelming and wild. It was so beautiful. He hadn’t appreciated it until it changed. It was nothing of the sort now; it was a steady stream, always angry, still powerful and ever present. But that rawness, that savage feeling. It was long gone.

At that moment he wondered what kind of Sith he would have been if he hadn’t lost that duel and of what more despising things he would have done, had he retained all his strength. He shuddered with the mere thought of it.

She looked at him, she seemed almost relieved. Perhaps she was afraid he would hurt her; or perhaps she just had the same thought as him. But he would not hurt her, not ever again and dwelling on mere possibilities seemed very useless.

“Do you still dream?” She asked quietly.

“Not of the future, I’ve lost that ability a long time ago. My last dream was of you.” Now he only dreamed of the past, and never of the good things. He didn’t dream of their wedding, or of the day she told him she was pregnant, or of their first kiss. Only of the frightful things he had done.

“Maybe that’s for the best.” It was. He thought of where his premonitions brought him. They led him to the place where he stood then, to the waking nightmare his existence had become. “Would you be able to do it if you had help?” Padmé looked at the lava again. Her face was hard and decided.

Vader stood at last, he stayed behind her. What was she asking him? “Possibly.”

She turned to him and leaned her back against the railing. Even with swollen eyes she was so beautiful. “We’ve tried everything. We’ve tried bombs, assassins, Jedi. Everything.”

“I know.” Yes, he knew. He had gone after the assassins and the bombers; he had killed groups of rebels and hunted many Jedi. He ran down all who dared attack his Master. Vader was the only one who could kill him; back then, when all that mattered to him was to overthrow him, he considered that the only person who had the right to kill the Emperor was himself; no one would deprive him of that privilege.

“We both know it has to be you. No one else can do it.” She approached him, her fists were closed at her sides and her jaw clenched. “You’re the Chosen One.”

Vader let out an unamused chuckle. “The Chosen One? I’m a murderer. I’m a monster!” His voiced rose at every word he spoke. He was so angry with himself. The Chosen One indeed; chosen to bring death and terror to the Galaxy.

“If you are a murderer, then make amends for what you’ve done!” She spat. “Devote your life to it, if you must! Or do it for me, if not to save your rotting soul!” Padmé was so angry. She was right to be. She deserved it and he merited any accusations she had to throw at him.

He wanted to say yes. But who would help him? Who would align with him? Everyone knew Darth Vader, the most feared man on the Galaxy; A powerful, mysterious being who commanded armies; the one from whom people hid their children. “No one will help me, who would stand beside me and fight with me? No one.”

She took one step closer to him and grabbed the hem of his cape, fiddling with it in between her small fingers, looking closely at the piece of fabric. “Our meeting was not by chance. I lured you there. I knew you would come if there was a Jedi to hunt. But I needed to know, I needed to know you were still in there. I had to see you.” She looked up at him deeply; hope forming in her features and unshed tears forming in her eyes. “Only a few people in the Galaxy know who hides behind that mask; and they will say nothing. Everything is prepared for Anakin Skywalker to come back from the dead. It’s time, if you agree to come with me.”

Darth Vader suddenly felt a wave of fear running through him. Anakin was dead, he had been dead for so long. How? How could he go back? Too much had changed; he had made too many mistakes. The light within him had faded, it was gone. He couldn’t say no, because she was asking, and he said he would do anything; he promised. But how? “How?” He finally asked aloud.

“Do you trust me?” She asked.

Of course he did. He trusted no one else.

“Yes.” He answered, almost meekly.

He felt like a child again: defenseless and weak.

“Then will you come with me?” Padmé pleaded, almost begging, as tears were returning to her eyes.

Vader dared put his gloved hand on her face and softly caressed her cheek, wiping out the tear that had finally escaped. “Yes.” But he had so many questions that he was too terrified to voice.

But, in that moment, he decided to give himself to her wholly; like he had never done before, not even when they were together. He was always divided; Padmé, the Jedi Order, the war, his Padawan.

Not now, he would do _everything._

Yet, he did not know how? How would that be done? He knew there were ways; but it was a long and painful process. And worst of all, all of the solutions he had discovered crippled his connection with the Force even further. She must have known this. But if she did, then why?

Did she want him to kill the Emperor, or did she just want him, even if less powerful? He dared not hope; he could not.

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted their solitude, and forced him to step back from Padmé. The moment he did he began missing her again.

“Forgive me my Lord.” Vader’s servant walked in the room uninvited.

“What is it Vaneé?” The Sith Lord asked not unkindly. He had been serving him for many years. He was Darth Vader’s most loyal follower; perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend.

How had his life become so sad and lonely?

Vaneé bowed, as he always did. “My Lord, the Emperor’s shuttle just communicated that they would be landing soon.”

The Sith Apprentice’s heart dropped.

“He knows.” He whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Where will he land?” Vader asked. His stern, commanding tone returned, again contrasting with the voice within him. As if nothing had happened, he was the Darth Vader once more.

“On the south landing pad, My Lord.” Vaneé replied, never straightening his back, in perpetual worship.

“Secure the north hangar. Under no circumstances must the Emperor or his man enter it. Prepare my ship! Now!” he ordered.

The lackey left, to do as he was told.

“He sensed something was wrong. We have to leave before he arrives.” He said to Padmé and took her hand, hurriedly taking her through his fortresses’ halls and leading her to his ship. They had minutes, if not only seconds.

He couldn’t risk facing the Emperor in Padmé’s presence; this possibility of collateral damage was far too high and he wasn’t ready put her in jeopardy. Yes, the day would come when he would face him; but not there, not then. Not while Padmé was around. Vader knew Darth Sidious far too well; he would find a way to use her to his advantage; like he had done before. And Darth Vader would always lose that fight.

They arrived at the ship quickly; the imperial vessel was fast, faster than the Emperor’s. Vader was as good at fixing things as Anakin; if nothing else, that had survived; and he did his personal modifications to the ship; as Anakin always had done in his ships so long ago when he was a Jedi.

Inside the ship, the Sith Apprentice sat on the pilot’s seat; he began hearing blaster shots in the distance; they were close. As he turned on his engines the door to the hanger was blasted open. He moved his fingers with urgency across the control panel. He took off, and just as he lost sight of the hangar below them; the Emperor stepped onto it. He couldn’t make it out, but he was sure he had a scowl plastered on his face.

As they reached orbit, he sensed Padmé relaxing on her seat; there was no blockade to face. Surely the Emperor hadn’t correctly calculated the gravity of his Apprentice’s situation.

“Where are we going? We must hurry!” Vader asked with urgency, they needed to leave quickly. Soon the Sith Master would be upon them.

Padmé looked at him; a flicker of doubt crossed her face but quickly faded away. Her mind was made up.

“Polis Massa.”

Vader inserted the coordinates and jumped to hyperspace.

And as the blue lights of hyperspace shone beyond the cockpit he speculated what was so special about Polis Massa.

He was terrified to find out. But he would; and he knew it would change his life completely.

He wondered: Was he still a Sith Lord now that he had overtly renounced his Master?

Perhaps not…


	6. Breathe

Vader was used to feeling powerful; he was accustomed to being considered almost unbeatable, after spending fifteen years living in a reality where very few people dared even looking him straight in the eyes. So the sensations he was experiencing at that moment were ones he was unfamiliar with. Well, at least, he had been for a while. It had been a long time since he had felt so powerless.

He obeyed Padmé at every turn, ever since they left Mustafar, asking no questions. He simply followed blindly. When she instructed him to land his ship on a secluded place near Polis Massa’s medical facility he did so. As he set down his vessel he realized that the place was away from prying eyes. It was too out-of-the-way. There was no possibility it was not pre-arranged.

She had said that everything was prepared, after all.

But still he didn’t fully understand what she meant to do when she inquired whether or not the ship had a medical capsule, which, of course it did. Vader had suffered too many injuries to not account for that necessity.

Padmé went to fetch it, placing inside his ship’s personal quarters, and the Dark Lord’s sense of dread increased at every moment. Nevertheless, despite being desperate to know what her plan was, for some reason, he dared not ask. Perhaps he was just too afraid to know.

 _Just trust her_ , he drilled himself. _Just trust her._

Padmé informed Vader he could not be seen in his usual apparel. No one could discover his true identity. Secrecy was paramount, she explained, in a matter of fact tone. And Vader knew that this plan was not new; she had been designing this for a very long time, or at least thinking of it for years.

She approached him and began slowly and carefully helping him out of his suit and mask, and aided his entrance in the medical capsule, where she cautiously placed an oxygen mask over his burnt mouth and nose.

He shuddered with the cold, being used to the controlled temperature of his suit, he was unfamiliar with the cool air in his ship’s ventilation system.

Vader could not also help but feel self-conscious. Perhaps only two or three people had actually seen him devoid of his suit. And Padmé, she had gazed many times upon his body. But back then he had been a young man, healthy and fit, maybe handsome, he dared say. Now he was nothing of the sort. The skin on his body was wrinkled and scarred, pale as death from lack of sun.

He was but a shadow of what he had once been.

Yet, she looked at him; she saw the consequences of the battle and poor treatment. She took a moment to take it in, and although he saw the pity in her eyes, she tried her best to seem unfazed. Vader was thankful for that.

And, having relinquished all control, there he was: completely naked, with nothing but his cloak covering his body and prosthetics; his scars and deformations exposed for anyone to see, as his wife hovered him in the direction of the Outer Rim’s medical facility.

At that moment, he felt it all: impotent, scared, weak, exposed; it reminded him too much of the day the Emperor went to get him from the lava banks of Mustafar. It reminded him of the day he was taken away from his mother.

It had been so long ago. These were such foreign and terrifying feelings. If he had flesh and blood hands he was sure they would be trembling of fear.

He knew anyone could kill him then and there, and there was nothing he could do to protect himself, and, for some reason, he was surprised by the fact that he was actually afraid to die.

That, too, was a foreign feeling. When had he started valuing his own life?

They certainly were being expected in the medical center. A team of healers, nurses and medical droids greeted Padmé upon their arrival, not giving him a second glance, as he was transported down the white, sterilized corridors. Some of those healers he was acquainted with; he had sent for them to see him in his home in Mustafar. Many offered solutions; most of them unsatisfactory. Not because they were not good solutions, on the contrary, some of them were perfect. However only perfect for the common man; most of them carried consequences, namely the decrease of his already crippled connection with the Force.

That was unacceptable; maybe not so much to him, but certainly to his Master. Darth Sidious was so powerful that he felt unchallenged; but he needed an Apprentice strong enough to defeat his enemies. And, despite his injuries, Darth Vader was still more powerful than any living Jedi.

There was, however, another reason he had decided to forgo any of the proposed treatments. They would greatly diminish his pain; and, despite unconsciously, Vader lived for and through his pain. It was all he had. If he stopped feeling pain, then what would he feel?

And Darth Sidious wished to keep that unaltered as well; His Apprentice’s pain led to anger, to hate, to an untamable wish for revenge against the Jedi. This also had served his Master well. The more Vader hated his enemies, the more brutal and blood thirsty he became.

Pain was strength. And a Sith Lord in pain was the perfect and ultimate killing machine.

But Vader was no killing machine in that capsule; in that capsule he was just another helpless victim; powerless and hurting; shivering of fear and cold. In that capsule, Darth Vader was not the beast in the suit; he was only human.

The Dark Lord was also utterly undeserving of what he suspected Padmé was doing for him.

But he shunned the feeling away and said nothing. This is what she wanted; this is what he would give her: his complete and unquestioned cooperation. He was hers to do as she pleased; his fate was in her hands.

After what it had seemed like an eternity of being paraded as the most helpless creature in the Galaxy, they finally entered a room. It was a private room, all white. It was furnished with a single bed, a small support table, a chair and a bacta tank, devoid of any kind of decoration or natural lighting. For the first time since they arrived, someone spoke to him. A nurse, a beautiful Twi’lek with a bluish skin tone lowered herself to the level of his scarred face. “What’s your name?” She questioned him with a warm smile. No one had smiled at him like that in so many years.

Before he could answer, however, Padmé interjected. “No questions asked, remember?” The nurse gave her a displeased look and, with the help of a colleague, transferred the Sith Lord to the bed.

“Patient A, Nila. That’s his name.” One of the healers said, looking carefully at a datapad. Vader knew him; many years before he had forcefully invited him to his castle in Mustafar. He looked human, but he was bakuran. Bakura was one of the most medically advanced systems in the Galaxy, if not the most. Odo Arden, one of the most prominent scientists in that system. Years ago his answer hadn’t satisfied Vader’s wishes; so he sent him away as fast as he had summoned him.

“Have they arrived?” Padmé asked the healer.

“We have sent for them as soon as we received your transmission. They are in transit as we speak; should be arriving at any moment.” He answered and Vader wondered what transmission she had made, for he hadn’t seen her send any whatsoever.

The healer put down his datapad and approached the lying, useless Sith. Without saying a word he began looking carefully at his skin. His face mirrored his thoughts. Darth Vader knew it wasn’t in good condition. They friction of the ill-fitted suit caused lacerations and infections, which only worsened his already scared and sensitive skin.

The treatments he had received after his burns on Mustafar had also been precarious, to say the least.

The healer turned him around, checked his back, his stomach, the remnants of his arms and legs, searching his entire body, whilst shaking his head and giving Padmé and his medical staff disapproving looks.

Sidious had kept him alive, surely, but under his own terms. If proper procedure had been followed, his scars would be barely visible; he had always been aware of it. But, maybe, he just didn’t care enough to rebel against his Master, not for that reason, anyway.

“He’s not ready. We need to put him in bacta.” The healer announced with his odd basic accent and signaled his staff with a nod of his head. Suddenly Vader felt hands fiddling on his limbs, removing his prosthetics.

Now he was even more defenseless, only when he thought that wasn’t possible; he was at the complete mercy of strangers. Yet, he said nothing and endured it; this is what she wanted.

And surrounded by the familiar feeling and smell of bacta, that was where he spent the next hours. He didn’t sleep, he just kept his eyes open, looking through the transparent glass tank, observing Padmé sitting on a chair and looking through a datapad with an air of concentration.

She had always furrowed her eyebrows a little when she was focused on something, small lines formed on her forehead. She had changed so little. She didn’t leave his side until he was taken off the tank and was observed by the healer once more. He declared that his patient was ready. For what, Vader didn’t exactly know, nor did he much care to find out. At that moment, he was content with having Padmé sitting at his bedside. But, unexpectedly, he felt the sting of a needle pinching his chest, probably the only place where they could find a proper vein, and his eyes became heavy; he couldn’t keep them open.

Vader felt so incredibly tired, he felt like he hadn’t slept in years.

Just before he lost consciousness Padmé caressed his cheek with her warm, soft hand. “You’ll be alright.” She said tenderly and he believed her.

Vader slept peacefully, and was not plagued by nightmares. Probably because his sleep was artificial; he knew he had been drugged.

He opened his eyes slowly; his wife was sleeping on a chair next to his bed; she looked so serene, so calm. As if she had no worries. He liked seeing her like that; he wished she truly had no worries. He wished he could have given her a happy life; the life she deserved.

As the remnants of his slumber escaped him, he noticed that his right arm prosthetic was in place; it was still the one he had gotten after his duel with Count Dooku, so long ago when he was still Anakin Skywalker.

Unconsciously he ran his hand over his face. Something was different. Something was missing. He put his hand over his mouth and felt nothing but his skin.

Suddenly, Vader felt an incredible urge to cry and wasn’t able to contain himself, as his tears began running down his face; he probably let out a sob for Padmé woke up in a startle.

“Anakin, are you alright?” She said, worried, placing her hand on his face. He could barely speak, so he nodded.

Yes, Vader was alright; he barely remembered the last time he had felt so well and he couldn’t stop weeping; he just couldn’t. He felt like an idiot; but he simply wasn’t able to contain himself.

Padmé smiled at him when she realized the reason for his tears. “I told you you’d be alright.” She said, caressing his face gently.

He placed his metallic hand over hers and looked at her with his own eyes.

At last, he would also be able to speak with his real voice too, clearer than he had in fifteen years. He knew he would never had to hear that fake, deep, menacing voice that had accompanied him for so long. He would never have to use it again.

For Darth Vader could now breathe.


	7. Human Again

Months. Vader was sure it had been months since he had entered that room. How many? He didn’t really know. Perhaps two or three. It was hard to keep track of time when he spent most of his time on pain killers, sedatives or anesthetics.

Truthfully, most of that time of his life was little more than a constant blur. He remembered being transported from one room to the other, from the bacta tank to the bed; with tubes sticking out of his chest more often than not.

Surgery after surgery, day after day. How many had there been? Twelve, fifteen? He didn’t know.

He was also never told what was being done. What he was aware of was that, during the little time he was awake, he was often in pain.

Vader, however, always had a moment of solace. Every day, when he woke, there she was, in the room. Some days she didn’t say a word to him and just sat there; other days she gently reassured him, telling him everything would be alright and that they were almost done.

Yet, they were never done. There was always one more; he found himself being taken again and again, rarely arriving awake to his destination.

Often times it reminded him of the day Sidious put him in that suit; the day he saw that mask being placed upon him; he could see himself lying on that table, broken and helpless. Once again things were being done to him that he had no control over.

But he had decided to do this for her; whatever her purpose was; he would do it. And, Padmé was no Sidious. Whatever she was doing was for the betterment of his life. He knew she had ulterior motives; but he also knew she would never do anything to hurt him.

In fact, wouldn’t it be easier for her to just ask him to kill the Emperor from the inside instead of bringing Anakin back? Wouldn’t he be in a better position, even if he enlisted help from the outside, perhaps from the Rebel Alliance itself?

Probably; but she was doing this anyway.

Vader believed, after all the time he had to reflect on it, that she had a combination of selfish and selfless reasons. It made him content; it also made him anxious.

Perhaps she would just try to overthrow the Emperor whilst easing the pain of the man she had once loved. It couldn’t be easy for her to see what he became; having witnessed what happened on Mustafar and having Obi-Wan’s account of the whole event.

To her, it must have been a reminder of what she had lost forever; of the mistakes he had made and she had to endure. Of all the harm he caused to her and to all the people that she loved.

To feel the need to fake your own death to escape your husband? How broken she must have been; and to think of her being broken only made Vader hate himself even further.

Most of the Galaxy thought the suit was nothing but a symbol; a demonstration of power. Padmé knew best; she was well aware it had been a necessity.

However, there he was, lying on that bed, with no way of standing. His prosthetics were still gone, except for his right arm. Vader felt uneasy, when would he leave this place? What would she have him do? How could he even begin to make up for all the wrong he had caused her?

What if wasn’t able to do what she asked of him? What if he failed her? What if all her efforts ended up amounting to nothing?

Vader took a deep breath before finally opening his eyes that morning.

Every time he woke up he took a moment to appreciate it, his newly acquired ability to breathe. If he was to be honest with himself, he would admit that he probably would never get used to it. It was such a wonderful feeling. Darth Vader was not used to having wonderful feelings.

And he surely knew he didn’t deserve any.

But somehow, the Force was giving them to him. To have Padmé at his side again was intoxicating, even though they could hardly be considered husband and wife anymore. Just the sight of her was enough to make him feel some semblance of happiness.

And it had been a long time since he had felt happiness.

To be able to breathe was such a relief. To not be plagued by that constant automated sound that made it hard for him to even sleep; to not speak with a voice he didn’t recognize as his own was inebriating.

And all the rest that had been happening since he entered that medical center had been so completely life-changing. Every time he woke up something was different. One day he looked down at his naked chest: the right side of it was clean; it looked as if it never had been burnt at all.

He knew that wasn’t his own skin, but it didn’t really matter.

He watched as the scars of his arms and legs and all of his left side, although still present, became so much less apparent.

Being exposed to light, his skin began gaining color, even a slight tan. He was now sure that the lighting in the room had been designed for that purpose.

He also recalled the day they brought him food. Force that tasted so good! He had given it up so long ago; his only sustenance had been the intravenous fluids he was provided by the life support system of his suit. He savored its texture and its flavor; and he only realized how hungry he was once its smell invaded his nostrils.

With a smile he remembered one day when he woke up and he felt something itching his nose. Still sleepily, he reached with his metallic fingers to scratch it, only to realize he had hair all over his face.

This gained him an amused laugh from Padmé, who had been sitting in her usual place. She quickly explained it wasn’t real and that, once he cut it, it wouldn’t grow back. She also took his hand and guided it across his face. They had even given him eyebrows and eyelashes; although she was sad to inform him he could never grow a beard.

That had been a good day, she helped him on a hover chair and cut his hair; she said she would leave it quite long, like he had it before; in case he wanted a professional to cut it. Vader couldn’t care less for a professional haircut. He was certain he would keep this one forever, regardless of how it looked like.

Despite this, he dared not look at himself in a mirror. Not yet at least.

He had looked once, in all those years. He still remembered it very clearly. It was a moment he was sure he would never forget.

It was shortly after the events of Mustafar. He was still in the Imperial Medical Center when he was taken out of a bacta tank and there it was: a mirror, right in front of him, the Emperor was standing next to it, with an expression of sadistic satisfaction on his twisted face.

Vader thought he was being punished, for what he saw was the body of a monster. “See what the Jedi did to you, Lord Vader?” His Master asked him. And the Apprentice’s rage was such that he broke the mirror with the Force. Its pieces scattered all over the floor. He decided, at that moment, that he would not rest until he found Obi-Wan Kenobi, so he could rip him to pieces, just as he had done to him.

Ever since, he had not looked in a mirror again; he just kept that image of his damaged body in his mind, in order to fuel his hatred towards his old Master.

But he knew that soon he would have to gaze upon himself; he wouldn’t be able to escape it for much longer.

But that day he woke up and looked at the seat where Padmé usually was, but she was nowhere to be found. It was the first time since this ordeal had begun that she wasn’t there and suddenly he wondered if she had left for good.

She certainly should.

But he really didn’t want her too.

He hadn’t been awake for long when a nurse entered the room, with a trey that he assumed was filled with his medications. She smiled at him, she always did.

“Good morning Mister A!” She had taken to call him that soon after he arrived; since she failed to obtain his name. Not that Vader would know what to be called anyway. He liked the name, he liked her.

“Hello Nila.” He offered. “Do you know where Padmé is?”

“She had to go away for a few days, but she’ll be back soon. Not to worry.” She announced with a smile. “I’ll miss you Mister A. You were the best patient I ever had.”

Vader scoffed, he knew his former healers would say nothing of the sort. Especially the ones who ended up being victims of his wrath; just one more thing he had to atone for.

“Tomorrow is your last procedure. Your new prosthetics finally arrived.” She continued. She was the only one who ever gave him any information of what was actually being done to him. He was grateful for it; he wouldn’t ask, because whatever it was, he was decided not to oppose. But it was good to have some idea. “Then you get used to them and off you go; to live a brand new life.”

Darth Vader smiled at her. She really had no idea.

The next day arrived soon; Padmé still hadn’t returned when he was again sedated and taken by the healers for the last time. He remembered nothing but the moment he woke up, still in a daze, he felt he could move his legs and both arms. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he looked under his covers; he was only dressed in his underwear. His new legs and arm still smelled of bacta; and as he looked at them he realized they looked real; covered in synthskin; only his right arm remained metallic.

“We have to make you recognizable.” Padmé had told him once. And Anakin Skywalker had three more limbs than Darth Vader. It impressed him how she thought of everything.

How long had she been planning this?

He was observing the realistic movement of his left hand fingers, when Nila finally entered the room, as she always did shortly after he woke up.

“Good morning Mister A!” She said, as she did every day.

But this time Vader didn’t greet her, he looked carefully at her. He knew it was time he faced himself, and he preferred doing it without Padmé nearby. He didn’t want to have another breakdown before her, like he had after his lung replacement surgery.

“Nila, can I please have a mirror?” He asked her, carefully. He was still not used to that voice. It was so odd that others besides him could hear it.

She smiled warmly at him and set down her trey on the table. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The young Twi’lek left the room and quickly returned, hovering in a tall mirror. She placed in the middle of a blank wall, next to the door. Vader couldn’t see himself from there. She knew that. She approached him carefully, as he struggled to put his new legs over the bed. He was able to set his naked feet on the floor.

They looked so real.

He felt the coolness on the ground with his sensors; they were much more sensitive than the ones in his old prosthetics.

And they were lighter, so much lighter. It seemed that they almost mirrored the weight of real legs.

He tried standing up on his own, but was unable to. He lost his balance immediately. She took both his hands; the right one had always been good, but the left now felt exactly the same as the other. He always used to have to overcompensate the weight on his right arm, since it was so much lighter than the left one; the outdated one that the Emperor had provided him with.

She carefully helped him stand.

His new legs not only looked real, they also felt so genuine.

And they were completely painless.

Holding his hands, the young nurse helped him take a few steps. “You’ll get used to it in no time.” She said, almost cheerfully, as she led him towards the mirror.

When they arrived to a spot she was satisfied with, she stopped him, standing in between him and his reflection.

“Are you ready?” She asked him carefully.

He wasn’t. But he said yes anyway.

Nila slowly let go of his hands, making sure he was steady. He was, although he could feel himself trembling lightly.

She smiled again and stepped away, placing herself right behind him, to make sure he wouldn’t fall, and peeking over his shoulder with a warm smile.

Darth Vader beheld his reflection. He looked so much like him; he looked so much like Anakin. His heart pounded inside of his chest as he saw what he was now.

He still had scars, but they were incomparably fainter than they used to be. They went over the left side of his chest, reaching his neck and the lower part of his jaw and spreading over his shoulder. The right side, however, was clean. His legs and arms seemed to have no scarring either and blended perfectly with his mechanical legs and arms.

He seemed whole.

He gazed at his face. The scar over his right eye was still there, like it had been so long ago. But the large gash on his left cheek, although still there, was smaller and flatter, it was merely a small scar, not much bigger than the one over his eye.

Vader’s hair was cut like Anakin’s and ears could be seen under it.

He was like himself again.

He appeared human again.


	8. My Master, My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan enters the chat! :)  
> I hope you enjoy!

He just stood there and it felt so good. The water was pouring over his head and onto his body. He rested his forehead on his arm, as he allowed the lukewarm water to slide over his back and onto de floor.

It had been so long since he had taken a shower, standing on his own two feet, with no droids around to help. It felt so incredibly good to be alone there, without having to rely on help; without prying eyes.

He could feel the tepid water hitting his mixture of real and synthetic skin, falling over his new hair. He watched, with his head down, as the tiny string of water that swam to his face dropped on the ground from the tip of his nose.

He just examined it closely, repelling all the thoughts from his mind. While he stood under the water, for that moment, there was no self-loathing, there was no regret; there was no guilt or shame.

It felt so freeing.

Vader stayed there longer than he cared to admit, and definitely much longer he had been advised to.

But it just felt so overwhelmingly good.

He almost felt like crying. Almost.

Suddenly he felt it: a disturbance in the Force, violently tearing him apart from his momentary bliss. He jerked his head up in a split of a second, standing upright, water falling over his eyes.

He sensed it, a presence he had not felt since… “Kenobi.” He whispered to himself. The feelings he had been storing away since the day he decided to follow Padmé came rushing back like a tsunami.

Anger. Rage. Hatred.

They flooded his heart like a violent wave, almost knocking the air out of him.

_Almost._

He gathered himself and left the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist on the way to the bedroom.

It had been a few days since he had gotten his new legs; he was quite steady on them already. Years of walking on bad prosthetics made it easy for him to adapt to these.

However, he was still rather slow.

Before he was able to arrive in the bedroom he heard the door sliding open. He reached out with the Force. It was just Padmé.

He hadn’t seen her in almost a week. She had been away. He didn’t know where, but now he had an idea of what she had been doing.

Vader grinded his teeth, trying and failing to not be angry with her; It was the second time she brought Kenobi to him.

_They all knew what had happened the first time._

He reached the bedroom. She was setting a pile neatly folded pieces of black clothing on the bed; a pair of black boots were set on the floor next to her.

“Anakin, are you there? I brought you some…” she started speaking, but Vader would not let her finish.

“You brought him here?” he asked, attempting to sound calm, but his heart was racing furiously within his chest.

Padmé looked at him; a blush rose to her cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes. Vader realized he was naked, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He roughly picked up the clothes she had just set on the bed and the boots from the floor and headed back to the refresher.

He dried himself quickly and dressed himself. It was just a set of black pants, a belt and a black shirt. He didn’t bother undoing the buttons to the shirt and just slid it over his head. There was also a pair of black leather gloves; he discarded the left one and put on the right, buckling it tightly to his arm. The synthskin on his left prosthetic arm was protection enough for the metal machinery underneath.

The rage he was feeling casted a wave of heat over his body, he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, almost to his elbows.

“You two need to talk.” She said from the bedroom as he slid his boots over his pants. He certainly wasn’t about to face Kenobi on a hospital gown and barefoot.

Vader scoffed. Talk? She actually said they needed to talk?

He made his way to the bedroom again and closed the distance that separated him from Padmé, towering over her, this time with his natural height.

“Where’s my lightsaber?” he asked curtly, grabbing hold of her arm, huffing.

“What…”

“You took it from me! Give it back!” He yelled.

Padmé set her eyes on him, deeply. “No.”

“You brought him here to kill me! Again!” He accused in a low voice, seemingly calm. But he felt his rage swelling up in him like the eye of a storm.

She laughed. She actually laughed. “If I wanted you dead I would’ve killed you myself, remember?” She said, poison dripping from every word she spoke. “Now let go of my arm.”

He hadn’t even realized he was holding her with such force. Vader released his grip from her and closed his eyes. He could feel it, that familiar consumption of the Dark Side; his anger and hatred getting a hold of him. He knew a flicker of yellow flashed through his eyes; so he closed them.

Darth Vader took a deep breath and turned his back on her. He gathered the Force around him in cool, calming waves. She couldn’t see him like that; not again. He would _not_ make the same mistakes once more.

His gloved hand ran through his still damp hair. “Why did you bring him here?” He asked Padmé, without turning to face her.

“He was your best friend, Anakin.” Her tone was almost sweet, almost pleading.

“He cut me in half…” he said, his voice a contained whisper from clenching his jaw.

_But didn’t you attack him first?_

A voice whispered in his mind and he wished for it to just shut up!

Vader made his way to the wall on the back of the room; he wished for a window. He missed being outside. He turned around and faced Padmé, resting his head and back on the blank, insipid wall, realizing she didn’t answer him.

They looked at each other; a silent battle of the wills of sorts was happening between them. But she would win, she always won. She knew it. They both did. When she decided she had enough she turned to face the door and opened it. “I’ll get him.” She said simply and walked away.

Vader stayed where he was, resting his head against the wall. He closed his eyes and calmed himself. Even if he wished to he couldn’t face Obi-Wan, he was unarmed.

So Darth Vader waited.

He did not wait long.

The door slid open again and Obi-Wan Kenobi walked in.

He regarded Vader for a moment, attempting to give him an air of indifference.

He failed.

Darth Vader knew his old Master all too well. That was not indifference; it was contempt.

It lasted less than a second, but it was there, and then Kenobi wandered his eyes across the room, finding the empty chair he strutted towards it, claiming it and crossing his legs.

Vader called upon the Force once more. He asked it for patience, for calm, for serenity. The Force provided, it always did.

“When Senator Amidala told me she had convinced you to return I could hardly believe it. But here you are.” Obi-Wan started; a blank expression adorning his face.

The Sith regarded his former Master, he had changed much. His hair and beard were streaked with grey; the wrinkles around his eyes were deep and he looked tired in his old, over worn Jedi robes; exactly alike the ones he wore the night he sliced his limbs off. “You look old.” Vader offered and Kenobi smiled.

“I must say, you look much better than the last time I saw you. Very crisp!” He raised an eyebrow, amused by his own sense of humor.

It made Vader laugh heartily. “You’ve always been funny Obi-Wan! Crisp, indeed!” He said as he abandoned his place against the wall. He took a seat on the side of the tidily made bed, facing his old Master.

He had always been funny. They both had. Funny and carefree; constantly engaging in friendly banter. It had been so long ago. Vader felt a sadness growing within him. It wiped the smile off his face. It also erased the anger that he had been trying to hide; at least momentarily.

“Do you still want to kill me?” Obi-Wan asked, straight to the point. Any amusement that had been present in his voice, feigned to begin with, was now gone.

Did he?

Yes, he did! Very fervently. What he did to him on Mustafar; how would he ever forgive him? The life of pain and the prison he had condemned him to live in.

But, he had attacked. Kenobi defended himself. He did what he must. Wouldn’t Vader do the same?

But Obi-Wan’s biggest sin was not that he cut off his legs and arm. His biggest sin was that he gave up on him; he lost faith in him.

But then he saved Padmé.

“I don’t know.” Vader answered truthfully, looking down at his boots. “I should want to kill you. You certainly deserve it.” He added, surprisingly calm. “And you? Do you still want to kill me?” He asked, looking in Kenobi´s deep blue eyes.

“Anakin, I never wanted to kill you!” The old Jedi Master said, honestly, as he placed a warm hand on his old Padawan’s shoulder.

The touch made him flinch.

Darth Vader did not flinch.

His own reaction angered him and he stood, running away from the touch; turning his back on his oldest friend and his greatest enemy.

But no one had ever hurt him so much in his life; Not Watto; not Sidious. No one had ever betrayed him like Obi-Wan had. That’s why he flinched.

Vader felt tears prickling behind his eyes. But he refused to cry.

And his reaction to his own stupid emotions enraged him even further and he couldn’t stop himself. “You left me there. You abandoned me; you left me to burn and die alone.” Vader heard as his old Master’s breath got caught in his throat. “I hate you Obi-Wan. Not for fighting me; I hate you because you gave up on me; because you left me. You were my Master, my friend; and you lost all hope in me. You – you didn’t save me.” Until he said it, Darth Vader didn’t really know it. But that was the truth that had been buried in him for all those years. He was thankful he had his back turned to his Master, for a tear ran down his cheek.

He heard Obi-Wan draw a deep, long, pained sigh. “Then strike me down, Anakin.”

Vader looked back at him. Kenobi had his arm outstretched; Anakin Skywalker’s old lightsaber rested on his palm. He had kept it all those years. Vader recognized it immediately; he put out his hand and called upon his old weapon with the Force; it landed firmly in his gloved hand.

He felt its familiar weight; he looked at the hilt, perfectly polished. Obi-Wan had taken good care of it. He rolled his fingers around it; it still was the most perfect weapon he had ever built.

Vader ignited it and watched as its cobalt blade hissed to life. He admired it; the deep blue of it; the way it gently hummed when he moved it, twirling it around with a flexibility he hadn’t had in many years.

“But know,” Obi-Wan continued with after a long pause, making him regard him and see the aggrieved expression on his features, “that not a day goes by that I don’t regret the moment I walked away from you. Every day I fall asleep and wake up seeing you burn on the bottom of that hill. Every day, Anakin.”

Vader extinguished his blade and curled his fingers tightly around it. He could do it; kill him. He had wanted to do it for so long. But for some reason, he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Why?

_What was happening to him?_

“Then why did you?” He questioned, instead of running his blade through his old Master.

Obi-Wan’s face thwarted in thought before he spoke. “Because I wasn’t ready to forgive you; I’m not sure I am yet.”

“I’m not ready to forgive you either.” He declared, looking down at the white tiled floor.

Obi-Wan smiled. “Then we should meet again when we are.” And he stood from the chair, looking at the door and preparing to leave.

“Where are you going? You’ve only just arrived.” Vader asked and he wasn’t sure why. Was he truly asking him to stay?

“I must return to my duties. I fear I cannot be away from them long.” The Sith didn’t like the cryptic answer, but he knew he didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust Obi-Wan either. “I’m certain we shall meet again soon Anakin.”

Vader nodded but said nothing. “I hope she’s right.” The Jedi Master added. “I hope there is good in you, Anakin.”

The Sith, or former Sith, smiled. He outstretched his hand and gestured for Obi-Wan to take the lightsaber back. Again, he didn’t know why.

It upset him that he was doing and saying things he couldn’t understand; just by pure instinct.

Kenobi looked at him and smiled faintly. “That’s not mine to take Anakin. It never was.”

Darth Vader put his old lightsaber to his side again; glad that he could keep it. It made him feel safe; it made him feel in control of his surroundings. “Goodbye Obi-Wan.”

“Goodbye Anakin.” His Master said and he walked out the door; leaving him again.

Vader clutched his lightsaber tightly against his chest.

He had missed it.

It had returned to him.

And he stopped himself from killing Obi-Wan. He showed… restraint?

An ability he certainly didn’t think he possessed.

Maybe he was still Anakin, after all?


	9. Rebel Scum?

Imperial ships were good ships, the finest in the Galaxy.

His ship, dare he say, was _the_ best one.

It stood beautiful and shining, black on the outside and chromed on the inside. It was fastest than any other; the hyperdrive had improvements that no manufacturer produced.

Vader loved his ship.

He loved it more than he had loved anyone ever since the day he fell.

He had cared for it, fixed it and improved it with his own hands, ever since it came to his possession ten years ago.

It was a good model from factory; it wasn't nearly good enough.

 _Now_ it was good.

It also reminded him of the only pleasurable moments he had while he was under the power of his former Sith Master. While he sat there in his free time, getting his suit dirty with oil, even though he knew it would cost him a night in a bacta tank and a delay on his duties because it would have to be washed; he would forget everything; he would just be a boy fixing things; like he had always been.

So, even though he had been doing _everything_ that he was told; _this_ he would not do. He would not get rid of it, he would not sell if for spare parts and he certainly wouldn't crush it at some junkyard so it could never be found.

This was a battle he would not allow Padmé to win; and he didn't.

"It might be of use. We might need it to enter an Imperial military facility."

That's what he told her even though he knew for a fact that the Rebel Alliance had previously hijacked imperial ships; so they wouldn't be in short supply.

However, this was no ordinary ship. It was Darth Vader's ship; made to be easily recognized.

He didn't care; he still loved it and he would keep it. There was no discussion to be had.

"We'll tell them we stole it."

He had told Padmé, who let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. As if claiming to have stolen Darth Vader's ship was the stupidest thing he had ever said in his entire life.

It was a hard bargain, however. Plenty of negotiation ensued. He kept his ship; but was forbidden to burn the damned suit to a crisp.

"It might be of use. We might need it to enter an Imperial military facility."

She had told him in a mocking tone; and he didn't like how she threw him his own words, but if it meant keeping his ship he was capable of conceding.

The blasted thing would be stored in the secret compartment anyway, away from meddling eyes. If he was lucky enough he would never have to see it again.

So he sat on the pilot's chair, gazing at the console, admiring its beauty and how it was perfectly organized and symmetrical; how all the systems were up and running without a single glitch; how the engines softly growled in his ears, ready to take off. How the landing gear was so well oiled one could barely feel it deploy.

It was almost like a friend, there was a connection between machine and man that wouldn't be broken.

He strolled his fingers across the control panel, the sensations seemed so real. He switched on the buttons and he made it fly.

Flying, the ultimate freedom. To be able to go anywhere, at any time. To gaze in the distance upon one's insignificance. Maybe, to try to convince oneself that in the grandness of the universe, in the end, whatever you did was indifferent.

Self-deception was, after all, an art form.

But now, he didn't even have to worry about that. Because he was about to do _good?_ Or, at least, what could be regarded as good, from a certain point of view.

They went to Yavin 4. The base of the Rebel Alliance.

Vader couldn't help but laugh when Padmé named the planet.

_So that's where you've been hiding all this time?_

He did not voice the thought; but it was ironic that he was just told where to go after spending so much time looking. It was also ironic that, after years of hunting Rebels down, he was about to join them.

Vader couldn't stop the chuckle that came with the thought.

As if he could ever have imagined he would become a Rebel, of all things?

Was he rebel scum, now?

Anakin, Vader, Jedi, Sith, Imperial, Rebel? What more would he become?

As they travelled though hyperspace they had a plan. Well, _he_ had managed to come up with a plan after Padmé asked him to think of the thing that would piss off Sidious the most.

Only two words came to his mind: Death Star.

Darth Vader despised it; he had more than once voiced it to the Imperial officers who reveled in the very idea of that technological terror. But the ability to destroy a planet was nothing compared to the power of the Force.

However, Sidious was marveled with it. He loved it, to the point he was capable of _"loving"_ anything.

And nothing would enrage him more than having it blown up to pieces; and Vader wanted nothing more than infuriate the Sith Lord. It would give him such pleasure.

But, they had a problem. The last time Vader had seen it, months ago, it was mostly built; its weapons systems were almost at half capacity, were it not for the excessive amount of kyber crystals they had to mine, it would have been ready by then.

Seeing, however, that Vader detested the thing, he did not pay it much attention. So there was the problem of effectively being able to destroy it. And then there was the problem of the tractor beam, and the fleet protecting it, and the countless amounts of fighter squads in it, ready to attack anyone who remotely came near.

And they couldn't destroy it from the inside, lest this became a suicide mission.

Vader was not interested in going in knowing there would be no return; after all, he was just beginning to get his life back.

No, they had to destroy it from the outside; and they had to go about it with subtlety.

For that, they needed the plans, which, obviously, he had never memorized.

They needed to pay a visit to Scarif.

The ship would certainly come in handy for that. And he was sad to admit, maybe the suit or, at least, the voice synthesizer, could too. After all, the Emperor still wasn't aware of what truly had happened to his old apprentice and Vader made sure to keep his mind heavily fortified to avoid any intrusion from Darth Sidious.

It had been three months, and Vader found himself wondering if maybe the old man had already replaced him.

That would complicate things; killing one Sith Lord was easier than killing two.

They reached Yavin 4 after a rather uneventful trip. Vader stepped out of his ship only to be greeted with a smell of engines, oil and fuel mixed with forest and rain. And suddenly he thought that maybe that was the best place in the Galaxy.

He looked around him as he walked through the hangar and was surprised to discover that the Rebel Fleet was larger than he had expected. They and, well, now Sidious, had been underestimating them greatly.

As soon as they landed, Padmé announced that she had a meeting with the Council to discuss and vote on the mission to Scarif. Vader groaned and felt a pinch of annoyance. Since when were military decisions democratic? It was no wonder the Rebels hadn't accomplished any significant victories yet; they clearly weren't doing whatever they had to do win this war.

 _That_ was why the Republic had failed in the first place; all that talk and no effective deciding body was what allowed a Sith Lord to rise to power without anyone even noticing.

Vader, despite hating the former Chancellor, had to acknowledge he was a genius.

The utter incompetence and complacence of the Jedi had helped; Anakin Skywalker's included; especially Anakin Skywalker's, much to his chagrin. He had been, probably, the stupidest of them all.

Not only had he been as blind as the others; he had also allowed himself to be tempted and fallen and, still, remain blind for fifteen more years.

Padmé had gone to her meeting and instructed Vader to stay right there until she came for him; but he obviously did _not_ stay right there and, instead, decided to go explore.

The base had a considerable size; he noticed that, despite having many ships, they were of many kinds and much smaller than Imperial ships in general; it was nowhere near as organized as the large and effective Imperial Fleet. This could constitute a problem.

As he walked around he saw the Jedi that he had choked the day Padmé found him; he was speaking with a Twi'lek pilot. Vader dropped his head, instinctively, even though there was no possibility of being recognized. Not even through the Force. He had realized, as of late, that his Force signature had been changing. Notwithstanding, he still kept himself cloaked as much as he possibly could.

A blue haired boy followed at the Jedi's heel, lightsaber clasped to his hip.. Vader smiled: A Padawan.

But then the smile faded. He remembered the night he stormed the Temple. All those Padawans, all those children. And he wondered, how was he capable of doing that? _How?_

He had been a good man all his life; he'd always been rash and reckless, but he had always been a good person.

How had he changed so much so suddenly? How did a good man become such a monster?

His thoughts took him wandering about the place without caring for his surroundings, just walking aimlessly.

Vader found himself in a large workshop; buzzing with people walking around, talking to each other, oiling engines, fixing droids, tuning hyperdrives in small shuttles; just so full of life.

He thought, if he stayed, he would spend a lot of time in this place. He hadn't fixed anything in a very long time. The sight slightly lightened his mood; Vader was thankful for that.

As he watched his surroundings a perky little blue astromech droid rolled past him, beeping incessantly, so quickly he could barely understand it. The poor thing hit a wall and fell over, while it stilled beeped. When it was finally still, Vader took a closer look at it.

"Artoo." He whispered to himself. Could it be? "Artoo!" he called out louder.

This time the little droid heard him and turned, stopping for a moment, as it computed. It then rotated twice around himself and rolled furiously in his direction, beeping excitedly.

Vader knelt down as the droid reached him and set a hand on its blue and white coverings; he smiled. "I missed you too, buddy."

The droid kept beeping and hopping around; how could a machine display so much feeling? Vader couldn't help but smile at him; they had been close friends once.

The stare that he felt burning into him, however, distracted him from the astromech and he looked in its direction.

She stood there, all grown up. He recognized her as soon as he saw her, even though she had a hand over her mouth and tears had started copiously falling from her beautiful big eyes.

He was scared to reach out with the Force and discover her feelings: disgust, hate, loathing, fear?

Vader froze. He just stood there and looked at her; afraid of moving, of saying anything.

Suddenly she started running towards him and, in a moment he felt her wrapping her arms and legs around him, almost knocking him off his feet. The shock made him stop breathing for a moment.

She cried loudly into his ear as she held on to him for dear life. "Master." She muttered in between sobs. "I looked for you everywhere! You're alive!"

"Hey Snips!" Vader whispered and only made her cry harder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her; his pride and joy. In truth, he had never truly looked for her. He didn't want to. He was afraid of what he would have to do if he found her.

They held each other for some time, he wasn't really sure how long, and finally Vader managed to push her away. He stretched his arms out holding her by the shoulders. "Let me look at you. You're all grown up Ahsoka." He said with a smile as he realized the beautiful woman she had become.

She just kept crying. He pulled her in his embrace again; she cradled her head on his shoulder. "I'm okay Snips. Don't cry, please."

"I missed you, Master." He felt so underserving of the title. But he had been her Master. Back then, when he was a good man. So he didn't stop her from calling him that even though there was nothing he knew that was worth teaching. Actually, all that he had learned should be erased from history; hopefully, all the teaching Sidious imposed upon him he would take to his grave. She clearly didn't know the truth; he would enjoy her respect while he still could have it; even if only to remember it for days to come.

"I missed you too Ahsoka." He said and he did.

After a while, her cries subsided. She pulled away from him and Vader cleaned the tears from her face. She ran her fingers through the scar on his left cheek. "What happened?"

Darth Vader smiled; that was not the time or the place. "It's a long story." He replied, offering her his best smile and receiving one in return.

He liked seeing her smile; he was sure he would make her cry very soon. He was also certain he would never be the recipient of her grin again. He didn't deserve it.

But he could not hide it from her; she was entitled to the truth. He would tell her his long story. Soon.


	10. A Thread Of Light

It had only been three days since he arrived on Yavin 4 and he was already leaving; managing the controls of his ship, on their way to his first rebel mission.

Although it seemed to be very little time; it hadn’t been easy to convince the Rebel Alliance’s Council; and, had not Vader been used to deal with scum of the likes of Sidious, he was sure it would have scared him.

Padmé had reluctantly interrupted his reunion with Ahsoka. He could see in her eyes that she had something to say; perhaps she wished to scold him for blatantly disobeying her instructions to stay by the ship. However, witnessing as he and his former apprentice embraced each other he knew she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, she settled with adorning her features with a gentle smile and apologizing for the interruption for he and Ahsoka had been summoned to present themselves to the Council. They wished to brief him and Padmé had made up a story for them; a story that she couldn’t relay to him due to Ahsoka’s presence. But, his old Padawan’s excitement and joy was such that there was no possibility of separating him from the Master she had searched for fifteen years and believed to be dead.

_If only she knew._

The thought made Vader feel his heart pounding with guilt; how much suffering had he caused?

But he would not be able to dwell on his musings, for he would be briefed by the Council and he had absolutely no idea what to say.

Surely he and Padmé had three months to come up with a story; and they did; a very rough one. He hoped that they didn’t ask for too many details.

And, would it not mean that he would be arrested and executed on the spot, thus denying him the possibility of running his lightsaber through his Sith Master’s heart, he was half inclined to tell them the truth and cover himself with the public shame he so deserved.

This Council was very different from the Jedi Council; it was the only reference he had. The Empire had no councils; he had taken his orders from one man only.

It looked more like a situation room with a round table, maps, computers and machinery all around them. Men in communication stations ignoring them and dedicated to their work surrounded them.

And, unlike what happened in the Jedi Council, he didn’t stand in the middle of the room. Actually, they all stood around the table. The only thing in common was that all eyes were set on him.

He looked at them; he recognized many of them. Many he had interrogated; they had been part of the Delegation of 2000. Mon Mothma stood in the center, right across from him; she was clearly the leader of the group. To her right stood Bail Organa who was shooting daggers at him. He knew the truth. It made Vader swallow dry. But he clearly hadn’t said anything.

The curious thing was that, with the exception of Padmé, all the leaders of the Rebel Alliance were still Senators. He and the Emperor had assumed as much; but now he confirmed their suspicions.

Palpatine would give an arm and a leg for that information. It almost made Darth Vader chuckle with the amusement at the fact that he was aligning with the very organization Darth Sidious so much wanted to destroy in order to put an end to him and his reign of terror; and finally take his revenge on the one who truly deserved it; the one who had taken everything from him.

The Council members observed him for a moment; Padmé, who stood next to him, was shifting uncomfortably. He was as stoical as he could be. He had never been stoic when he was a Jedi, but somehow became so after he joined the Order of the Sith, which was, somehow, a contradiction, for Sith were driven by their passion.

He thought with amusement that perhaps he had never been a good Jedi Knight and was even a worse Sith Lord.

With less amusement he mused that, maybe, he had just stopped feeling much.

“Master Skywalker,” Mon Mothma began, making him flinch inwardly at the title. He was no Jedi. “We are pleased that you have finally found your way to the Rebel Alliance as did many of your companions before you.” She paused, waiting for a reply. Vader chose not to give her one. He was a Jedi killer, to think of him as their companions made him want to vomit. He glanced at Senator Organa, who was clearly unable to hide the sheer disgust on his face.

He supposed he deserved it. He deserved much worse.

“Padmé has conveyed to us the events that transpired over the last months and that ultimately led you to us. We would, however, like to hear your version.”

He looked at Padmé, who gave him silent permission to speak. There he was, about to tell them the made up story Padmé had ingrained in him. They always said, a good lie was always laced with some truth. At least, from a certain point of view. The thought made him think of Obi-Wan.

Darth Vader took a deep breath and began, “As Padmé may have told you, the two of us married at the beginning of the Clone Wars. When she was taken by Darth Vader I sensed a disturbance in the Force.” He paused, this sounded so stupid. “So I decided to investigate and it led me to Mustafar, where I discovered that the Sith Lord was keeping her prisoner. We entered a fight and I was able to defeat him in combat. His body was destroyed in the lava of Mustafar. We commandeered his ship and left the system. However I sustained grave injuries from the fight with Lord Vader, and was recovering from said injuries over the last two months.”

Mon Mothma nodded, her expression blank, as always. “How exactly did you kill him?”

Vader could not hesitate. “Lightsaber wound to the heart.”

“Where were you?”

This certainly was not a briefing, it was an interrogation. “Inside the castle, in the private chamber where Padmé had been staying. Outside on the balcony.”

“How was his body destroyed?”

“A river of lava ran right under that balcony. After I stabbed him, I removed my weapon and he fell backwards towards it.” He didn’t flinch, but his heart was pounding inside his chest.

This didn’t feel right.

“Where was the ship?”

“On the north hangar.” That, at least, was true.

“How did you know it was on the north hangar?”

“I didn’t, we found it there. Actually, Padmé found it. I was too injured to look.”

“What were your injuries?”

“I suffered burns.”

“How did he burn you?”

How could a woman who seemed so serene could be capable of such a drill. He took a deep breath: he was trained, very well trained.

“Force lightning and some damage to a gas pipe that eventually he set on fire with a spark that came from his lightsaber. It caught mainly the left side of my face and upper body.” He added the detail, thinking of where most of his scars had remained.

“Where were you taken for your recovery?”

“Polis Massa.”

“What doctors treated you?”

Vader smiled, “I don’t know. I was mostly on pain killers and sedatives. You should ask Padmé that question.”

“How did you arrive on Mustafar?”

She was good. Asking the questions out of chronological order was certain to make the subject falter. Vader was better. “In a corellian freighter. There was a star destroyer in orbit, I was shot down and crashed on the planet’s surface.” These questions were well beyond the story Padmé had made up; but so far he hadn’t sense any indication of distress from any of his answers coming from her.

Mon Mothma took a deep breath, and a faint smile formed on her lips. “Very well.”

Darth Vader sighed in relief but he wished Ashoka wasn’t standing right next to him; it would be so much harder to tell her the truth now that she had seen him lie so blatantly without a moment’s hesitation.

“Padmé told us that you gathered intelligence concerning some kind of weapon that is being built by the Empire?” She asked. The tone of interrogation was gone and became pure interest and determination. Despite himself, Vader liked her.

“Well yes. A deserter Imperial officer and close informant of mine,” technically it was true: he had deserted the Empire and no informant was as close to him as himself, “brought to my attention that the Empire has been building a weapon with the capability of destroying planets. It’s a battle station. He has also advised me that the plans to that battle station are secured in Scarif, in the Imperial Security Complex. My plan is to enter said complex, using Darth Vader’s ship, retrieve the plans so we are able to subsequently destroy this weapon.”

Discussion ensued. First, of whether or not it should be done. It was decided that it should. A weapon that could destroy an entire planet was obviously too dangerous to ignore.

Afterwards, it was discussed who should go on said mission.

Vader, obviously, insisted on going alone. However, he would not be victorious. Padmé, _too adamantly,_ demanded that, though a small team should be sent, one man could not do it alone. She knew it was a lie; she just didn’t trust him.

He understood, he hardly trusted himself.

But then, her suggestion was that he was sent with his old Master and Ahsoka, after all, they had worked together on many occasions.

He knew why she proposed it; he couldn’t keep himself from being furious nonetheless. She was about to send his greatest enemy to battle beside him because of the simple fact that she wanted Obi-Wan to keep an eye on him.

He had argued that he would only injure his efforts; but no discussion was to be had. The Council loved the idea of the most effective trio of the Clone Wars reunited: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano.

The problem was he was not Anakin Skywalker anymore. He was Darth Vader and Darth Vader worked alone. He _was_ alone.

But they couldn’t know this, could they?

He could have choked someone. He did not. He should have.

He left the meeting with rage pent up within him; he was so frustrated that he didn’t have the possibility to unleash his anger; all he could do was clench his fists at his side until his pain sensors screamed for him to stop. He felt the Dark Side flowing through him, his hate, not for Padmé, but for what she had just done. He had to hide it from others, especially from Ahsoka. He knew her power very well, he had been her Master for three years; he knew she had a strong connection with the Force.

And he had to do it for Padmé. After everything that happened since she had found him; he wouldn’t destroy everything again like he had once, in a fit of rage.

No, he had to control himself. He had to; he should be able to. But keeping it all in for so long only made it harder every single time he was angry. It was like all of it was accumulating; escalating.

If he had been authorized to go alone he knew he would be able to let it out; but not with Ahsoka there and certainly Obi-Wan would have no problem slicing through him like he had done before, so effectively. And despite their encounter and their temporary silently agreed peace he knew that, if it came to that, Kenobi would have no scruple to do what he had to do once more.

It wasn’t comforting to be on a mission with a man who would not hesitate to cut him in half if ever he stepped out of boundaries; boundaries that he didn’t even know anymore. It had been too long in constant darkness. Sometimes, in little things, it was hard to be able to tell the difference between good and evil. He knew the concepts, rationally, but he had mixed them together for so long; at times they could be confusing, especially when he had a goal.

Would he be able to stop himself from achieving it by any means necessary?

And Kenobi was too powerful a Jedi for him to control on his own; and having to constantly hide the Dark Side only made it all harder.

When he was with Padmé alone it hadn’t been hard to control his emotions; her presence was soothing, desired. Sometimes, when they had a pleasant conversation while he was in the medical facility, on occasion, he could feel the Light Side of the Force; its welcoming warmth; its pleasant prickling.

Sometimes he even thought that maybe he had missed it.

But now that he was supposed to spring into action he knew things would complicate themselves.

Darth Vader thought of what he should do; he had to keep himself in check.

And then he remembered. _Sometimes he could feel it. The Light. Maybe it was still in him. Maybe he had some of it left._

There was no better way to let go of one’s feelings than releasing them to the Force, while meditating, in the Light.

If he only could train himself to access it again; he would be able to keep himself grounded.

And now that he wasn’t aligned with Darth Sidious anymore, to use the Light Side didn’t seem so preposterous after all.

They had three days to wait until Obi-Wan Kenobi arrived.

Darth Vader decided to meditate; like he used to before he was himself.

At first, it had been hard. When he closed his eyes and dived into the Force he could see nothing other than darkness. He could feel the pain; his pain, his victims’ suffering; all across the Force. He could hear the screams of fury that echoed and that drove the Dark Side.

He focused on what brought those feelings of warmth; he focused on her. Padmé. He could sense her presence in the Force; he reached for it; diving into the darkness, moving through it as it clung to him like slime. But the more he moved the closer he got.

Vader wasn’t able to find her the first time he tried, nor the second. On the third time, however; he dug deeper into the darkness; further than he’d even been. He could almost smell her. He was trying to strip himself of it; the Force that flowed through him, if only he could somehow filter it. He dove more and more; she was closer and closer; faint but steady. Her connection to the Force was weak, but he found her. It was but a thread of light, but only a thread could eliminate darkness completely; and suddenly there were shadows, but he could see through that sea of hate. Only a little bit, like a peephole; but there it was.

He basked in it and threw his rage through it, releasing it and eliminating it. It was just a little bit; but enough to make him feel like maybe he had some hope.

He finally opened his eyes and the world seemed different, better.

A few hours after his brush with the Light, Kenobi finally arrived and it was time; and while he flew them to Scarif he still felt angry; but, in that moment in time, he also felt he could control it.

But, despite everything, he couldn’t deny that the prospect of killing a few imperials was a bit more than thrilling.


	11. Anakin Skywalker Sends His Regards

The trip to Scarif seemed to last forever.

Ahsoka had been one of the few people in the Galaxy that Darth Vader truly liked, or maybe loved, if he was still capable of such feeling.

Yet, during that trip, it had seemed that every word she said was meant solely to stab a knife through his already shattered heart.

The three of them sat on the cockpit, like they had so many times before. Obi-Wan and the former Sith Lord were quiet, admiring the hyperspace lights that flew past them, or at least pretending to.

Ahsoka, however, was so fervently happy that she could not quiet her mind; or her mouth, for that matter.

Vader understood. He truly did. He was happy to see her; even though it had been a bittersweet moment. He was mostly glad he found her in _these_ circumstances. It aggrieved him to think that, had he found her three months earlier, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

Kenobi was uncomfortable as well; he could sense it through the Force. And he suspected he had been uneasy for more than one reason. Firstly, just the fact that he was there with _him_. Secondly because he was in a double mission; not only was he supposed to help secure the Death Star plans but he would also have to control his former and only Padawan, whom, he feared, would not blink before crushing his throat. And last, but certainly not least, because it was impossible to not sense Vader's discomfort in the Force every time Ahsoka said a word.

He wondered how she had not felt it too.

Maybe she was too blinded by her emotions.

She certainly was no Jedi.

And neither was Vader.

But they unquestionably could not be any more different; and she was quite clearly the better person. And Vader the worst. Not the worst among them; the worst in the Galaxy; probably only short of Palpatine himself.

Anakin Skywalker would be ashamed of himself.

Darth Vader was ashamed of himself.

And he couldn't stop but wonder, was there still _anything_ of Anakin in him? The goodness, the kindness, the selflessness? Where was the man who would risk _everything_ to save the people around him; not only the people he loved but all the innocents he encountered? Where was the man whose dream was to end slavery in the Galaxy and travel to every single star system? Was it all gone or only lost in the midst of all the darkness that he had offered himself to?

"I still can't believe you killed him." She said, with a smile, and her feet propped up on the console, sprawled across her chair with her arms crossed behind her head. Almost daydreaming. "He was a monster! But he was so powerful! Of all the Jedi, it truly had to be you."

Vader wished he could just disappear. Disgraceful. How had he subjected himself to such indignity? How could he? For what purpose? Now that he knew Padmé was alive he could barely remember.

Power? Greed? It didn't make sense.

He blamed himself; but mostly he blamed _him!_ Palpatine. No moment in his life would be as sweet as the moment he would kill him.

And why was he still deceiving her still? He had three days; but he just couldn't bring himself to tell her. He couldn't. She was the only person in the Galaxy that mattered who actually had some respect for him. How could he destroy it without extinguishing what was left of himself in the process?

If only he could pull Anakin out of Vader and really, truly change…

Was that what he wanted?

"I'm so sorry that he hurt you though. I can't imagine…"

"Ahsoka." He interrupted. He couldn't hear it any longer. He just wasn't physically capable of hearing it. It hurt too much. It was all just too much. "I have to t…"

"Perhaps," said Obi-Wan, interrupting "exchanging fifteen years' worth of war stories before a mission is not the best option." He sent him a poignant look.

He was right, of course. Vader knew it so he didn't try to continue. Who knew what would happen.

Kenobi stood, stretching his back. He wasn't getting any younger and they had been sitting there for a long time. "Come Ahsoka, let's get some sleep." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle look.

Vader still remembered that look, when his former Master wanted to encourage him to do something; he would always put his hand on his shoulder like that and gave him that look. He missed it.

Ahsoka stood and looked at Vader.

"Aren't you coming Master?"

The Sith shook his head slowly. "I'll stay just a little while longer."

She gave him a warm smile and followed Obi-Wan.

And he stayed there; alone again. Always alone.

He waited. Half an hour had passed and reached out with the Force, sensing that Ahsoka was sound asleep.

Vader stood from his seat. On the left wall of the cockpit, close to the door, there was a secret compartment. He pressed it gently with his gloved hand and it opened without making a sound.

Looking at him was that blasted mask; his very own prison. How he hated it! He didn't care what Padmé had said; he was going to burn it as soon as he had the chance.

That was not what he was searching for however. He stuck his hand inside and found it: his lightsaber. He ignited it, its crimson blade reflected from the chromed walls.

He remembered building that lightsaber, shortly after he had lost his.

He killed a Jedi, stole his crystal and built the lightsaber to the image of his previous one. For some reason, it was never quite as perfect.

The blade had been a beautiful sapphire color before; and then he bled it. He immersed it in pain, hate and anger. He killed and killed and then killed again; damaging and bleeding the crystal until it turned a deep shade of red.

What a disgusting thing to do.

But it was done.

He extinguished the blade right after Obi-Wan walked in the cockpit again. Unceremoniously he clasped his Sith lightsaber to the left side of his belt; his Jedi one already hung from the right.

It didn't feel right just having one of them.

Obi-Wan watched him while he did it and threw him a tired and defeated gaze. He sat on the co-pilot chair and slumped against it, silently. Vader took the pilot's seat.

"After our last conversation, I truly thought you had changed. Or rather, I hoped. Now I see you reaching for that… thing." Kenobi spoke after a long, deafening silence.

Vader thought of what to say. "I was Anakin Skywalker for twenty-three years of my life. I was Darth Vader for fifteen. Right now I don't know who I am." He said, as truthful as he could be. It was hard to explain.

"Perhaps you're neither." Obi-Wan offered.

Vader smiled and looked at his old Master. "Perhaps I'm both." His smile faltered. "I can't undo what I did Obi-Wan. I can't just go back and be whoever I was before this… happened… to me. I'm not sure I want to. He was the one who fell to the Dark Side, after all."

The Jedi Master pondered for a moment. "He was deceived."

That made him let out an unamused chuckle. "Possibly; but don't fool yourself Obi-Wan. I always knew it was wrong. I just convinced myself that the ends justified the means." He paused to let out a sigh. "And when she died, I was just so angry and in so much pain, that I just didn't care anymore."

"And yet, she's always believed in you. When she… gave birth; she was dying. The last thing she told me before we brought her back was that there was good in you." Vader looked at Obi-Wan and saw him smile. "When she found out about you, in that _thing,_ she started planning this; all those years ago. She had this all figured out all along. And she brought you back. Maybe not completely, but she did."

Darth Vader smiled. She was an incredible woman. One day, when he felt that he remotely deserved it, he would ask her about their child again. Right now, he didn't even trust himself to know.

"What are you going to do now, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

Vader shrugged. "She asked me to kill him. So I will kill him."

"Will the ends justify the means?"

The Sith Lord looked down at his hands that were fiddling with the hem of his cloak. "I don't want her to hate me anymore."

Obi-Wan looked at the hyperspace lights; he sat back on his chair and sighed. "Then you would do well to remember that Padmé has never loved Darth Vader, nor will she ever. She loved Anakin Skywalker."

_Padmé loved Anakin Skywalker. Could he still be Anakin Skywalker?_

They were interrupted by the beeping sound that warned them they were about to leave hyperspace.

Obi-Wan stood. "I'll get Ahsoka."

Then Vader had an idea. "No, wait. Not yet. In that compartment, inside the mask, there's a type of voice synthesizer. Can you get it for me?"

Kenobi gave him a knowing stare that didn't look very pleased, but did what he was asked anyway.

While Vader dropped them from hyperspace he heard the Jedi Master rummaging through the secret compartment and unclasp the piece from the mask. He closed the cabinet, hiding the offending piece of clothing and handed it to his former Apprentice, reclaiming his seat.

They beheld the Empire fleet protecting the planet. Obi-Wan gulped; Anakin smiled. A wave of excitement washed over him.

He put the device to his throat. "Shuttle A0002 requesting a landing pad." Darth Vader's voice echoed across the cockpit, sending a shiver down his own spine. He would hope never to hear it again. But it was a necessity.

"Shuttle A0002, identify yourself." They heard over the comm.

"Captain, I suggest you clear a pad, or my arrival could prove to be troublesome for your career." Vader offered in a threatening tone.

"Lord Vader, you are cleared for landing, my Lord." The voice was nervous; Vader noticed his old Master frown with distaste.

However, often it was useful to be feared.

Darth Vader stuck the device in his tunic's pocket. "Go get Ahsoka now."

"Where will we land?" Obi-Wan asked before he went back for Ahsoka.

"On the main hangar."

"The main hangar? Are you insane? It will be littered with stormtroopers."

Vader smiled again, "Yes, all in formation, waiting to pay honor to Darth Vader. And we have five lightsabers between the three of us. Now go get Ahsoka."

They finally landed and looked. Vader knew how many there would be, but Ahsoka and Obi-Wan peeked through the cockpit.

"There are at least thirty stormtroopers there!" Ahsoka said. Vader just nodded. The excitement for the upcoming battle was welling up within him and sharpening his senses; he opened himself up to the Force, letting it flow through him. Dark, Light, it didn't really matter.

"Okay, ten for each." She said, exhaling a sharp breath, as if to brace herself.

Vader wrapped his black cloak around himself, covering his black robes and tunic and put his hood over his head. He clasped his blue lightsaber tightly in his hand. "If it makes you feel better I'll take twenty and you can get five each, Snips."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "No deal Skyguy."

The hatch to the ship opened and the trio began walking down the ramp; Vader in front as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan followed.

The senior officer anticipated Lord Vader to appear, what he didn't expect was the dark figure that exited the ship.

Vader didn't give him time to open his mouth to speak; he pierced him through with his blade. Blaster shots began flying at them; Ahsoka and Obi-Wan deflected them.

The Dark Lord of the Sith reached out his hand as he walked towards them, the blasters came flying from three stormtroopers' hands simultaneously. Vader let them drop on the floor and with one swoop of his blade took them out all at once.

The troopers were hurriedly trying to take cover; but there was no escape for them. The Sith deflected their blaster shots back at them with the hand that was squeezing his lightsaber's hilt tightly, whilst, with his other hand he Force pushed two of them against the wall and to unconsciousness.

He bathed himself in the Force as the battle ensued; the power it bestowed him was inebriating. The familiar scent of death invaded his nostrils.

The Dark Side filled him. It was a rush he could not explain.

It was all so fast; a helmeted head rolled across the ground, an unnamed trooper clung to his lost arm, still holding the blaster. He threw his lightsaber at a stormtrooper further away and who had shot dangerously close to his head. The ignited flying blade cut through him just under his shoulders and then returned back to its Master's hand.

Around them they fell; one after the other. Until all one could hear was the hissing of lit lightsabers.

Vader felt his eyes turning yellow. He took a deep breath and was able to keep the blue.

"This way." He said darkly for the others to follow.

He walked through the corridor; he sensed the familiar feeling of his cloak flying behind him as he took long and fast strides. Two stormtroopers crossed their paths. Vader claimed one of their blasters and crushed it as it reached his mechanical hand, lightsaber ignited on his left hand. Ahsoka finished one off and Obi-Wan the other.

Two more right turns and one left and they would arrive to their destiny.

Closing his eyes momentarily, he reached out with the Force as alarms started blaring. "A few more on the next right turn." He announced, with a cool, almost amused tone.

How he loved this thrill. The power of having people's lives in his hands to dispose of as he pleased.

 _I'm slipping back._ He was thinking it, but could hardly stop it. _Back into the Dark._

They slayed the group of clones that followed; his lightsaber strikes strong and ruthless. He felt his muscles burning.

_He loved it._

It was the last turn. They had been there for how long? He usually lost track of time when he immersed himself in the Dark Side, just reveling in it.

"Anakin!" Vader heard behind him and almost growled savagely. He looked back at Kenobi. "Calm yourself." He said, as he shot him a warning look. The Sith narrowed his eyes at the Jedi but took another deep breath in spite of himself.

He had to get rid of them, at last for a few minutes; or else he wouldn't get those damned plans.

To his satisfaction he sensed a large group of stormtroopers approaching on the next corridor.

Good. That would give him an opening.

He charged into it; two blaster shots hit his raised right hand sending sparks against his glove, and left him unfazed. He moved forward, leaving Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to deal with the troopers while he steadily advanced to the door on the end of the hallway, dodging blaster shots on his way with his azure blade ignited.

Vader opened the door with the Force, entered, and closed it behind him. With his lightsaber he destroyed the control panel.

They could only force their way in now.

That gave him what he needed: time.

There he was. That presumptuous little swamp rat. He stood as he saw him and picked up a blaster.

Vader laughed as he pulled that primitive weapon out of his hand and into his with the Force. He threw it behind his back as if it were a piece of garbage.

The man gaped his mouth.

"Who are you?" He asked as he recoiled back into his chair, fear spilling from his every pore. It was nauseating.

Darth Vader smiled and went around the luxurious desk, half sat on it and looked down at the pitiful creature, his face dangerously close. He could smell his terror. "Director Krennic." He said, lending his usual accent to his syllables, but with his own voice. It felt so good. "I am pleased to see that you did not yet choke on your aspirations." He curled his hand and the officer clutched at his throat. Vader let go at once; it was only a demonstration, for now.

"Lord Vader… I…"

"It is good to see you still recognize me Director." Vader stood, and paced about the room, looking at his subject with a cold grin. "I seemed to have misplaced my access codes. I would like you to get me the plans to the Death Star, please." The codes were changed every week; his had long expired.

"I c-c-ca…"

"D-D-Don't stammer Director!," Vader snapped, mockingly. "It really doesn't become you. The plans. _Please._ "

"The Emperor doesn't allow…"

"Look around you. Do you see the Emperor here, Director?" He shook his head in response. "Then perhaps you should worry about me, instead." Vader didn't need to look back to see what was happening. A lightsaber started piercing through the door. "Do you see that Director? Those are Jedi. Do you prefer dealing with them or with me?"

Vader awaited a response. He received none. He half expected the man to retch at any moment.

The Sith Lord grew impatient. "If you don't give them to me, I will have to force the codes out of you."

Krennic looked at Vader, at the door and the Dark Lord could see an image of the Emperor flashing through his mind.

He had no more time. They were almost breaching in. Vader reached out a hand and entered the mind of the Officer, without ceremony and regardless of the mess of a vegetable he knew he could become. He searched for them through the Force, the Dark Side swelling within him.

He got them.

Half a second before the Jedi finally entered he sliced his lightsaber through Krennic, kicked his corpse onto the floor and sat at the desk, inputting the codes in the computer terminal.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka finally entered the room.

"Why did you lock yourself in here?" Kenobi asked, exasperated.

Without diverting his eyes from the screen, Vader lied. "I accidentally brushed the control panel with my blade."

He found the plans, uploaded them to a datapad and stood, finally looking at his companions.

Obi-Wan looked devastated; Ahsoka was livid.

"I have them. Let's go." He said as he averted his eyes from them. He hadn't liked what he saw.

He grasped that maybe he had gone too far. But he just couldn't stop himself. They had a mission; he had accomplished it. No time to think.

It had all been so fast there was hardly time for the imperials to call in for reinforcements. They barely found anymore stormtroopers; just the floor littered with bodies.

Their small group finally made their way into the hangar where Darth Vader's ship awaited, impassive, like the perfect machine that it was. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan entered it while Vader spotted a stormtrooper who still drew breath; he had taken off his helmet. He approached him and crouched next to him, putting his mouth treacherously near his ear.

"Tell the Emperor, Anakin Skywalker sends his regards." He whispered and then he turned to enter his ship.


	12. Tough Beast To Kill

Even while deeply concentrating on escaping the Imperial ships that were pursuing them he could feel her eyes on the back of his head. The tension was palpable; he could feel it all around him; he could almost taste it, smell it.

He dove the ship down, Obi-Wan clung tightly to his seat with one hand while, with the other, he entered the coordinates in the computer.

They needed to go into hyperspace. They were hit once; then twice. The shields held. But no amount of skill would allow Vader to destroy the entire fleet that was trying to kill them.

“Hurry!” If he wasn’t so busy he would have screamed. Instead he growled.

They were hit for the third time. The shields were almost down.

“Done!” Kenobi announced. Vader lifted his hand and pulled the lever.

They fled.

He let go of the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding and slumped into his chair.

The adrenaline began to fade and a headache was forming.

He could still feel her; Ahsoka. Ready to burst at any moment. He really didn’t want to do this right now.

Vader felt a shiver of cold; he put his synthskin hand to his forehead and felt the sweat beads. He stood and finally looked at her, her expression was still livid.

Darth Vader ignored her and brushed past her, making his way into the refresher. He stood in front of the sink and looked in the mirror. He looked like crap; well, he always did, but now more than usual.

He turned on the faucet and with his left hand gathered some water and put it to his face. He really needed to cover his other arm with that synthetic skin. It was very useful.

His former apprentice followed him and stood at the door of the refresher. He looked at her again and put a towel to his face.

He waited.

“What happened back there?” She asked, trying to sound calm; Vader knew she was grinding her teeth.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Her composure came crashing down. “What do I mean? What is wrong with you?!”

Vader saw Obi-Wan behind her, an air of disappointment etched across his face; he rubbed his beard in thought.

“You were using the Dark Side!” She finished.

Vader didn’t know what to say. He was surely too old to be scolded, especially by the person to whom he had taught everything. “So? I got us the plans, didn’t I?” He asked. He knew it was the wrong thing to say; but at that moment he liked seeing her fury grow.

He just couldn’t understand why.

“So?!” She couldn’t stop herself and sent a slap to his arm, hitting the metal. He was sure it hurt her more than it hurt him. “You’re a Jedi!”

He pointed his gloved index finger at her. “I am _not_ a Jedi!” Venom seeped from his voice as he pronounced the words in a chillingly quiet tone. He brushed past her again, turning his back on the discussion. He could feel her trailing behind him as he walked back to the cockpit.

Vader didn’t even have time to sit when Ahsoka started speaking once more. “What happened to you Anakin?”

The question made him laugh. It was a sad chuckle. “What didn’t happen to me?”

He heard her scoff and turned to face her.

This is what he feared. One more person to despise him. Just one more, among trillions of others. Why would he care?

But he did care.

Vader was angry: with Ahsoka, with himself.

“Is that how you killed him? By becoming like him?” She accused.

“Ahsoka!” He heard a warning in Obi-Wan’s voice. He was trying to stop it from happening. But why? Did he actually care enough?

She narrowed her eyes at the old Master. “No, I want to know! I deserve to know what is happening.”

“Fine!” Vader finally snapped. Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed on the floor, his hand rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache with no cure. “I didn’t become _like_ him. I _am_ him!” He spat and watched her widen her eyes and take a step back. “I didn’t kill Darth Vader, Ahsoka. I am Darth Vader. I am a Sith. Are you happy now?”

Inside him a voice urged him to stop. _Just stop talking. Stop!_

But he couldn’t.

“I’m the one who stormed the Jedi Temple! I’m the one who hunted down the Jedi. I trained the Inquisitors. I led the purge. I killed the rebels. It was all me! Is this what you wanted to know? Am I still your Master? Because if I am, what does that make you?”

He regretted it as soon as he said it. But the rage within him wouldn’t allow him to stop. He could feel his eyes turning yellow. And as they did she stepped further back, away from him. Afraid of _him,_ of her own Master _._ Terrified of the man that, so long ago, had vowed to teach and protect her.

Vader was destroying himself by destroying her. Like he had destroyed Padmé, like he had destroyed Obi-Wan.

Now he had no one, again.

It only made him angrier.

“It’s not possible.” Ahsoka said, softly now. As if she wanted to convince him; as if she wanted to convince everyone in that room. “You are the best person I ever knew.”

The Sith Lord sneered. “And yet, you left me too.”

A flash of guilt crossed her features.

And another one invaded his heart.

This wasn’t her fault. _Why was he saying that?_

It was like the Dark Side wanted to hurt her. But Anakin didn’t; Anakin loved her.

“Anakin, please.” Obi-Wan started. “You must quiet your feelings.”

“You are _not_ my Master anymore! And _who_ are you to teach me _anything?_ You did this to me! You crippled me and left me in pain and alone for him to take me!”

_STOP! Just stop!_

“And you!” He turned to his old Padawan. “No one knew better than you how conflicted I was! And you traded me to go on a little adventure because you didn’t feel like being a Jedi anymore! Guess what?! Being a Jedi was about sacrifice! It was about helping others. And you only cared about yourself! You felt betrayed? They didn’t trust you, but I did! I _stood by you!_ Imagine how I felt! How I feel every day!”

He had no control over the words that came out of his mouth.

He knew it wasn’t their fault. He fell because he wanted to; because he gave in to the power and the greed and the hate. He fell because he was desperate. Vader knew it. But he just couldn’t stop himself. All those years, all those things he had always wanted to say and couldn’t, suddenly came rushing out.

But it wasn’t fair. No, he had done it. He had pushed them away.

He watched as Ahsoka slid her body down the wall and sat on the floor, her eyes gleaning with unshed tears. Obi-Wan’s too. He just stood there, silent, rubbing his beard. He wasn’t hurt but he had never seen him in this much pain.

But he just had to keep going.

“You’re all so self-righteous! You were all blind! To Sidious, to me! The Jedi destroyed themselves and the Republic was nothing but an assembly of corrupted politicians.” He stopped to catch his breath. “And I, the Sith Lord, single handedly ended the Clone Wars!”

“At what cost, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, infuriated. “And what war? The one your Master created in the first place? It was a pretend war to get him into power!”

He was right. It didn’t matter.

“You’re better than this, Anakin! I know you don’t truly believe it. Not anymore. If you did Ahsoka and I would be dead! If you wish so badly to destroy the Jedi, then kill us now!” Kenobi said, resolved to not believe a word he said.

Vader clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to kill them. He didn’t.

He couldn’t stay there a moment longer. He had to go. He had to leave.

“Are we done here?” He asked, as if he hadn’t said enough already. “Let me know when we land.” And he walked away.

He entered the quarters. He didn’t even bother lying on a bed. He just sat on the floor with his head buried between his knees. He could feel himself shaking; his head was throbbing.

_You don’t cry. You DON’T cry!_

Vader did not cry. But he took one breath after the other; steadying his hyperventilation.

It had been hours when he decided to stand up and go in the refresher. His breathing had become quiet and regular again. He looked at himself in the mirror, the yellow had faded. Blue had replaced it. He wondered how, only the day before, he had seen the light for the first time in so long and now he was submerged in darkness once more.

_What had he done?_

He punched a wall, making a dent. He didn’t care.

He went back in the quarters and was surprised to see Ahsoka sitting on a bed. It wasn’t time to land yet; they had a few hours to go still.

Vader stopped at the door and looked at her; she returned his gaze and the momory of that fourteen year old girl he had known flashed through his mind; so full of innocence, hope and joy.

Now he had destroyed her too.

Darth Vader’s mission was to destroy everything Anakin Skywalker had ever cared for.

He didn’t speak. Vader just looked at her.

“Master Kenobi told me what happened in Mustafar, and... all the rest.” Vader nodded; he really didn’t want to talk about it. It was always on his mind, nagging at him, reminding him he wasn’t whole, reminding him of what he used to have and lost.

She sighed. “You’re right. And I am sorry.”

“Ahsoka, I…” he started but she raised her hand and stopped him.

“Please, let me finish.” She sighed again looking down at her hands and he remained quiet. “I knew you weren’t well. I knew you were distrustful of the Order. I knew about Padmé. And I also knew you were conflicted. Still, I left you. I shouldn’t have.”

She raised a small hand to wipe the tears that fell down her face. “I was selfish. I wasn’t well either. Maybe things would have been better if we had each other. Things are always better when we are around the people that we love. But you have to understand. You truly were the best person I had ever known. I could never have imagined… But I guess the Dark Side can tempt really anyone, right?”

The Sith Lord thought it could never tempt _her._ She was too good to fall.

Anakin was weak. Weak, desperate and foolish. A dangerous combination.

Ahsoka looked at her old Master. Vader could feel the kindness in her eyes; it warmed the coldness in his. “I promise, I will never leave you again. I will always be here. Always.”

“Ahsoka, I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was wrong. And I am sorry. I was just so angry… and sometimes I still have trouble controlling it.” He said as he approached her and sat beside her.

She smiled faintly. “I know. But I also know Anakin is still there, somewhere. I’ve seen him when we met on Yavin 4. The person who greeted me and who hugged me wasn’t Darth Vader; it was Anakin. I know it. I sensed you, like you used to be. Maybe we just have to work a little harder to keep him out all the time.”

It was his turn to smile and lightly shake his head. “I’m unworthy of your kindness.”

She held his hand and examined the false skin carefully. “It’s not the Jedi way to bestow kindness only on those who they deem worthy.”

So wise, so strong. He was proud of her. “I thought you weren’t a Jedi anymore.”

She shrugged. “I’m not. But it’s not my way either.” A moment of silence followed. It wasn’t a heavy silence; it was warm and welcoming.

“Master, I believe in you.”

That word again. “Don’t call me that Ahsoka. I don’t deserve it.”

“You will always be my Master, Anakin. Always. You taught me everything I know. You are irreplaceable. And I want you to know I mean it. I will _never_ leave you again. I will not.”

They stayed there, Master and Apprentice. Silently.

Vader decided he would try to be Anakin.

Padmé, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka all loved Anakin. He wanted that. He needed that.

But he would try to be a better Anakin, a stronger one. One who wouldn’t be tempted; one who wouldn’t be weak.

He decided. It was time for Darth Vader to die.

Yet, Darth Vader was a tough beast to kill.


	13. Another Way

Staring at the holomap in the middle of the situation room brought Darth Vader no solace. His eyes jumped from system to system to no avail.

How had the Emperor managed to hide such a big thing so well? Vader's frustration grew by the second. He could feel it overwhelming the Force around him, turning into that familiar aura of anger he was so used to and couldn't seem to dispose of.

He could do nothing but take long breaths to attempt to settle his feelings. But such efforts had been fruitless. Ever since the mission to Scarif, controlling his rage had become more difficult.

The fact that his plans had failed miserably didn't help.

After retrieving the Death Star plans from Scarif they had been quick. The Rebel fleet was expecting the trio of Force users. A Jedi, a Sith and a… whatever Ahsoka was. He wasn't really sure.

He had jumped in his starfighter after examining the plans. The Force helped him quickly take note of the particle exhaust vent that led straight from the surface directly into the reactor core and he wondered how he had not seen it before. Even though he was glad he didn't.

They jumped immediately to the construction site, the forest moon over Endor.

He had his hands set on the controls, already asking the Force to help him swiftly get a torpedo in the exhaust vent when they arrived.

And then that blasted communication from the bridge. It was gone; nowhere to be found.

They had not been quick enough.

He sent scouts to every single system he could possibly think of that could harbor a safe construction site for the massive weapon.

Darth Vader managed to find absolutely nothing.

"Where the hell is it?" He asked himself through gritted teeth. It was as if it had vanished into thin air.

He was about to yell at the damned thing when his thoughts were swiftly interrupted.

Padmé's voice rose above all others' in the room. It was usually soothing; able to snap Vader out of his rage fits. But not in that instance.

As she spoke, anxiety spilled from her voice. "Anakin, you need to see this."

She didn't wait for him to turn to her and started walking towards whatever he wanted her to see, expecting him to trail behind her.

He did knowing that he wouldn't like it.

He froze as soon as he saw Palpatine's hologram flickering, blatantly interrupting the HoloNews transmission.

The very sight of him made Vader want to vomit.

_Why? Why had he ever served this thing? Why had he become his errand boy? His attack dog? His slave!_

It was nauseating.

Sidious opened his mouth to speak; his rotten teeth peeking from under his deformed lips. Vader clenched his fists on his sides, keeping himself from smashing the blasted HoloNet device.

" _I come to you today with a sorrowful heart."_ He began. Vader couldn't stop himself from sneering. _"A heinous crime has been committed against the Empire and its most loyal servant. Lord Vader dedicated his life to upholding the values of the Empire and to maintain peace and order across the Galaxy."_ The Emperor paused for good measure. A deep sigh came out of his lips. His head bowed in feigned agony.

Darth Vader wished he would drop dead!

" _He was not only my right hand, my most trusted ally. He was my closest friend. A brother."_

His head snapped up to face the cameras again; his pained expression replaced by an air of determination and arrogance.

" _Lord Vader was brutally assassinated in his own home by a rebel group led by the most dangerous man in the Galaxy; a traitor to the Galactic Empire who has managed to escape justice for the last fifteen years through dishonesty and lies. A man who, until recently, Lord Vader and myself believed to be dead. The man who, so long ago, concocted the plan that led to the attempt on my own life and left me scarred and broken; a wielder of the long lost treacherous Jedi magic. A man who, during the Clone Wars, deceived us all by pretending to be a hero, only to betray the Empire and its loyal subjects."_

As Vader stood staring at the hologram, he felt all eyes in the room burning into him. He looked at Padmé, who had a hand placed above her heart and disbelief etched across her features; she, who knew the truth, was, more than anyone, aware of the Emperor's ruse.

All lies. He had never said anything but lies.

And Anakin Skywalker had been foolish enough to believe them. Not a day went by that Vader didn't curse his own stupidity.

He faced the hologram again, just as it caught its breath.

" _This man's name is Anakin Skywalker. A murderer and a traitor."_

The Emperor burned his eyes into the camera. Vader narrowed his at the hooded, decrepit figure. _"To you I speak now, Anakin Skywalker."_ His menacing, cold tone was unmistakable. That was truly a Dark Lord of the Sith. _"The Galactic Empire shall not rest until you and your allies are brought to justice; it shall not rest until Lord Vader's death is avenged and peace and order are restored throughout the Galaxy!"_ His voice louder with every word he spoke; his hands rising in premature victory.

The hologram disappeared and Vader was told by his pain sensors that his fists were still clenching at his sides. He looked around him, a deathly silence had settled upon the room; indistinct faces started at him, with expressions he couldn't discern. Maybe they didn't actually know what to think.

Darth Vader, however, knew what that message meant. He was coming for him; to kill him or worse, to bend his will again. The thought made his stomach churn. He would never let it happen again; never.

He had been a slave long enough.

"Let him come." He managed to say to whoever wished to hear and turned on his heels. Yes, the sooner he came, the sooner he'd kill him.

As he furiously paced through the corridors of the rebel base he felt rage swallowing him whole. The nerve on that creature!

_Liar, liar, LIAR!_

He hadn't yet reached his quarters when he heard Padmé's fast stride behind him. He didn't turn around.

Vader felt his eyes becoming amber; it took everything he had not to get in a starfighter and go to the Imperial City to chop off the Emperor's head.

But he knew he would be killed in the process. He wasn't powerful enough; he hadn't been before and now he was even less.

A part of him wished Padmé hadn't given him new lungs; cloned lungs. Midi-chlorians cannot be cloned; another blow to his already weakened powers.

_Ungrateful._

He wanted to do it so badly. But how? _How?_

"Anakin wait." He heard from behind him; her breath was becoming ragged. Sometimes he forgot she wasn't twenty anymore and that she didn't have the Force. But he didn't care. He didn't. He just wanted to kill Sidious. No, he wanted torture him; make him suffer; return every shred of pain he had given him.

Vader imagined holding him in a cell for twenty years and pay him a visit every day to hurt him for sport.

_But Anakin wouldn't do that. Don't you want to be Anakin?_

"Anakin!" He heard again. He finally turned. So suddenly that Padmé almost bumped into him.

She looked at him, into his eyes. Into Darth Vader's eyes, and she winced.

"What?" This was becoming harder and harder. To control himself; to become himself again.

"I know you're upset. But _that_ is not the way." She said as she composed herself. He was sure she had been expecting to see the blue eyes she used to know. But he could not live without his revenge.

She was there, he saw her every day. But she was not his wife anymore.

Obi-Wan was there; slept in the quarters next to his; but he was not his brother.

Ahsoka was ever present; but she was not his apprentice.

He had a child, but he was no father.

_He truly wanted to be a father._

They were all there, but he was still alone. Maybe more alone than ever. He used to have something; he used to have his revenge against the Jedi, he used to have the Empire, his Master, his mission.

Now what did he have?

Nothing. _Nothing._

They all despised him. He couldn't blame them.

He blamed Darth Sidious.

"Anakin would find another way. He _always_ found another way. He failed when he stopped looking for the _better way._ " Her eyes were pleading.

Vader couldn't look at her.

_Anakin did always find another way. Except once… except for his downfall._

He remembered the Clone Wars, the countless times Anakin had disobeyed orders to save complete strangers, to aid his Master, to attend to his Padawan, to spare his men, to love Padmé.

Yet, when the dreams started; his desperation was such that he could see no other solution; and the one Sidious had offered was so, so tantalizing.

But now, he knew there was. Padmé was standing in front of him to prove to him that he made the wrong choice; to make a point that Anakin should have found a way; as he always had.

If only he had trusted Obi-Wan; he saved her. _He was the other way._

Fearless as ever, she rested her hand on the flesh part of his arm, sending a shiver down his spine. He looked down to the ground; too ashamed to remind her of what he was capable of when he was overcome with rage.

The regret began replacing the rage, and soon he felt the yellow of his reptilian-like eyes fade and his eyes were human once more.

"I can't imagine what it's like to have the Force and to be consumed by its darkness. But I've always believed there is good in you and I have seen it. I know this is hard Anakin, but we are all here to help you. I know you can find it in yourself to make your way back to me. I know it; I've always known it and nothing you can do will ever convince me otherwise."

"I don't know what you want. I don't know that I can be whatever you think I can be." He finally looked at her, her eyes burning into him and suddenly, he realized, he was still wearing a mask and she was still seeing beyond it.

But it clung to him so fiercely. How would he shed it?

"I want you, Anakin. I miss you." He took a deep breath and watched her smile sadly and leave, leaving him with his thoughts.

He walked into his quarters. He sat on the floor, like he used to when he was a Jedi, crossing his legs.

It pained him to remember the sound of the Room of a Thousand Fountains around him; the peacefulness of it; the smell of nature; the laughter of children.

_He also remembered the floors stained with the blood of his brothers and sisters._

He closed his eyes. He needed to find it. The light. He had, that day before Scarif. It was gone now.

He searched, diving into the stream of the Force. He saw nothing but darkness.

Hours went by; the whole night. He sat, quietly, patiently, looking.

Nothing. It was empty of warmth. Only the cold pain and sorrow lived there.

Opening his eyes Vader saw the first light of dawn peeking through his window. He lied down, defeated.

There was no light for him. It rejected him. It was too late. He remembered.

_Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny._

He was right, that old fool was right.

Vader finally closed his eyes; he couldn't stop thinking about Anakin.

 _Another way, another way._ He muttered under his breath.

It then came to him. _Another way. The other way._

He stood from the bed and darted out of the room. He didn't even knock when he entered the quarters next to his.

Obi-Wan had been sleeping but was already darting upright with his lightsaber clenched in his hand when Vader got in. The Force was a loyal ally and Kenobi was strong with it.

"What are you doing here?" Obi-Wan asked as he stood. All signs that he had been resting were gone.

It was hard to ask for it. But the time for pride was over; and pride had already cost him too much. If he had swallowed it and talked to him before… _Before it all._ "I need your help."

Obi-Wan immediately loosened his grip on the hilt of his weapon, his eyes inviting Vader to speak.

"You used to be my Master." He said, but felt his voice cracking. "Anakin's Master."

"Yes." Obi-Wan replied simply, the Force was guarded within him and he kept his expression blank. Anakin used to know what that expression meant. He was nervous.

Good, he wasn't the only one. "I need you to be my Master again."

Kenobi stared at him at a loss for words. He settled the lightsaber on the bed and looked at Vader, his right hand rubbed his beard deep in thought; thoughts he hid with the Force.

He said nothing; he said nothing for too long.

_Maybe this was a mistake._

Vader felt his heart accelerating. Beating, thumping, pounding.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope." Vader begged and a smile that reached his eyes grew on his new Master's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just needed to get that quote there. I couldn't help myself. LOL


	14. An Elusive Feeling

As Darth Vader sat at the small table in his old Master’s room, he watched him pace, rubbing his beard in deep thought.

Even though Obi-Wan had already agreed to be his Master, he couldn’t avoid the feeling of anxiety that his silence was causing him. Maybe he wasn’t sure; maybe he thought there was no hope. Perhaps, at first glance it seemed like a good idea, but, as the hours went by it seemed impossible and unreasonable.

Maybe Obi-Wan didn’t truly believe it was possible. Vader certainly had serious doubts about it.

It was nothing more than a leap of faith.

Yoda’s words kept creeping through his mind: _In the end cowards are those who follow the Dark Side._

Perhaps he was a coward and would never be able to return. He wholly was consumed, his destiny sealed.

Perhaps Anakin was truly, irreparably dead.

He shuddered at the thought. This wasn’t what he wanted; not anymore. He was tired of living in darkness; of having that pain and sorrow and fear envelop him every moment of every day.

Surely it gave him a feeling of invincibility and a perception that his power was unlimited. But they were all lies; the Dark Side, as its users, was deceiving.

Vader had been deceived for far too long.

Kenobi finally sat across from him and looked at him intensely; his leg was twitching nervously. “Anakin, are you sure this is what you want?”

He stared at his Master. Even though he kept his feelings closely shielded in the Force he knew he was having second thoughts. He doubted him. Of course he did. Vader had betrayed him like no one had ever done or would ever be capable of.

Sometimes he heard Anakin inside his mind. The two parts of him mingling and fighting each other; tearing him apart. He had always been able to separate the two when he was in the suit. Only he could hear Anakin’s voice; to the rest of the Galaxy he was Darth Vader. But now, it was different.

He was called by that name and Darth Vader’s voice was nothing but a memory, although he knew that, despite everyone thinking he was Anakin, Darth Vader still dominated his body, for he could not shed the darkness that clung onto him.

But yes, he wanted to. There was nothing he wanted more. He remembered how it felt to be Anakin. Anakin Skywalker was loved; he smiled and laughed; he gave love to others. There was a warmth in Anakin that had been snuffed out by the freezing Dark Side.

He wanted the warmth back; he wanted it ever since he laid eyes on Padmé all those months ago. So he simply nodded in response, for fear that his voice would crack once more.

Obi-Wan stood and paced again. He was nervous; couldn’t keep himself still. If he wasn’t so anxious himself he would have smiled. It was so uncharacteristic of his old Master; his calm and collected façade broken by the enormity of the moment they shared.

Vader was well aware of it. So far, despite the unspoken peace that was settled between them, he had accused Obi-Wan of treachery, of leaving him.

He meant it, assuredly. However, he could not dwell; he had dwelled long enough. The time to move forward was upon him; the time to forget. The time to forgive. If Obi-Wan could find it in him to absolve Darth Vader from his sins, surely he could do the same. Would that not be the beginning to the path back to the light?

The Sith was determined; he was determined to put Mustafar behind him. His physical wounds were healed. They had left some scars but the pain was over. It was time to heal his other sores.

The Jedi looked at him; his thoughts flashing behind his clear blue eyes. He finally sat again and his expression told Vader that he finally knew what to say.

“Before we start there are things we need to establish.” The Master said with firmness.

Vader felt an overwhelming mix of feelings that he could not describe. Acceptance, hope, fear, apprehension.

“You will never be a Jedi again. You are unworthy of the title. I may forgive you, but I cannot forget what evil and destruction you brought upon the Jedi Order.” A flicker of sadness crossed the Jedi Master’s eyes. Vader knew it to be true. He would never forget it either: that fateful night at the Jedi Temple. His hands were stained with the blood of the Jedi’s future. A future he destroyed without mercy or hesitation. The Jedi deserved better than him. A wave of familiar regret washed over him and he could do nothing but bow his head in shame.

“Alright.” He answered. He would not be cowardly by silencing himself in that moment. Despite all his failings, Obi-Wan deserved better than that.

“And you shall do as I say. You were never good at obeying Anakin. But I must have your word. If I am to help then I need you to trust me.”

“You have my word.” He would trust him. It had cost him everything not to trust Obi-Wan. Vader wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

He watched as a faint smile formed on his Master’s lips. He looked so hopeful. And Vader feared he would fail him again.

_He would try his hardest._

“There is no try, Anakin. Either you do this, or you don’t.” His Master heard his thoughts. He felt invaded but said nothing of the matter.

“Then I will do it.” He said it, only because he needed to believe it.

Kenobi’s smile broadened. “Very well, Padawan. Where do we start?”

Padawan? Vader could hardly believe he would ever be called that again. He narrowed his eyes despite his amusement. “You do know I’m thirty-seven, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his beard. “Well, Master Yoda did always say you were far too old to be trained.”

He could feel it in that moment of silence. Something he hadn’t experienced in so long. Master and Apprentice, newly rekindled, burst out laughing simultaneously. It was an earnest laughter. No sarcasm tainted it, no ill-thoughts or hidden meanings. They laughed together, like two old friends. Like they had before countless times.

That moment was the happiest Vader had felt in a very long time.

It allowed him to hope that maybe, one day, he could be a fraction of the man he once was. If Obi-Wan believed it, he could believe it too.

He thought carefully about it. They all believed him. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Padmé. He was all that was left.

_He had to believe._

Neglecting his fruitless search for the Death Star, the next weeks were filled with work. Obi-Wan and Vader were each other’s shadow. The first always looking for any signs of light he could bring out in his new Apprentice.

But Darth Vader expected no miracles. Their training consisted mainly of meditation. He didn’t dare pick up a lightsaber, for fear of succumbing to anger. As much as they tried he was yet to be able to bask in any sort of light.

He knew something was preventing him to. He just didn’t know what. Maybe the fact that Obi-Wan had been concerned over something he wouldn’t share for weeks didn’t help their efforts. But he would wait until his Master was ready to tell him. His distrust was understandable and he knew he hadn’t done enough to earn his confidence yet.

Vader would never forget the day he finally found it again. There was something different about that day. He could not know what but the Force screamed at him, it screamed at him to see, to watch, to search. He had woken up in the middle of the night sensing that something was about to happen. It was an elusive feeling that invaded his thoughts and prevented him from resting, keeping him restless.

He entered his Master’s quarters at dawn, as usual, only to find him gone. It intensified the sensation. Something was amiss. For a moment he wished he hadn’t lost his powers of precognition, despite them having never brought him anything other than pain.

Sitting on the floor, Vader closed his eyes and lost himself in the Force. It had been some time since he had done it on his own. Obi-Wan would help him; prevent him from falling to deep into darkness, even though he had still been unable to lift him up to the Light.

Darth Vader knew that only he could do that. No amount of willpower from Obi-Wan could help him. He was there to guide him, but redemption could only come from within.

He was struck by the darkness again, as he was every day. But he would not surrender. He refused to give up. The Force screamed louder when he dived into it.

 _Find it._ It said. _Find it._

So he did as the Force heeded. He searched within it. Something was there; he could feel it so close by. He wondered if it was there physically; it felt so to near him. A sensation he could not describe.

It felt freeing, innocent. Beautiful.

He felt the room around him, the hallways. His mind scoured the command center with the Force, the forest and the hangar.

Vader saw it. A light so strong it was blinding. So nearby. It did not come from within. It emanated from a creature he could not see. It was so strong with the Force. It felt like nothing he had ever witnessed before. Only coming close to those old feelings he was, before he fell, when he walked steadily within the Light. The darkness of the Force that surrounded him lifted completely and his mind squinted, if it was even possible.

He opened his eyes. His heart beat furiously within his chest, almost painfully fast. He felt beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, from the parts of his skin that were still real.

Darth Vader needed to find it; but for some reason he was afraid. It was so foreign and so familiar at the same time.

_Maybe if he came in contact with it, he would only taint it._

He found it in himself to stand and leave the room. Walking through the corridor he finally sighted Obi-Wan. The consternate look on his face was unmistakable. He was sure it was related to what the Force had shown him. “What was that?” Vader asked when he crossed paths with his Master.

But Obi-Wan stopped him and grabbed by the arm. “Come, we need to speak.” His voice was solemn, like he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

Vader peeked through the corridor, but ultimately let himself be led by his Master. He had given him his word. He would do as he was told.

It was hard to walk away from whatever he was searching for.

The Jedi Master led him to the place where he had come from. They walked silently; something hanging over them. Something that Obi-Wan needed to say but clearly wasn’t quite sure how.

“Sit, Anakin.” He told him in almost a whisper and Vader obeyed. “What did you see?”

Vader was taken aback by the question. Kenobi clearly knew what had happened. But how? He couldn’t know, unless he knew the source of it.

“I’m not sure.” Vader answered, truthfully. “A Light. Something like I’d never seen. Capable of destroying every shred of darkness.”

Obi-Wan nodded and sat, facing his old Padawan. “I’ve been worried. Many years ago, I was charged with guarding something very valuable. Some time ago, that thing disappeared.”

He paused, ran a hand through his beard and exhaled a sharp sigh. Vader said nothing.

“Today, it reappeared. Here.”

Vader ran a gloved hand over his forehead. For some reason, this seemed so ominous. “I don’t understand…”

“He heard the Emperor’s speech and he came looking for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” But he knew. _He knew._ He just wouldn’t believe it.

“Anakin, your son is here and he wants to see you.”

Vader stood and turned his back on his Master. A single tear ran down his cheek. Obi-Wan had been keeping him safe all those years. Safe from his own father. At that moment he loved his Master more than he ever had before. And somehow, hated himself more fiercely than ever.

“I have a son?” Was all he was able to say.

Obi-Wan sighed. “And a daughter. Twins. His name is Luke Skywalker. We were waiting for the right time to tell you, we wanted you to be ready. But there is no avoiding it now.”

Darth Vader looked at his Master, speechless. His _children._

 _Luke._ What a beautiful name. And what sorrow was brought to his heart thinking that he had never even known his children’s names.

“Padmé decided it would be safer to raise them apart from each other and from her. Not even she knew their fates. We couldn’t risk you or the Emperor finding them. She is with Luke now.”

Vader only nodded. They couldn’t risk it. _If the Emperor found them…_ The thought alone was insupportable.

Padmé gave up her children, _their_ children had grown up without their mother and without each other. Because of him. Because he was a coward and a fool.

Obi-Wan stood and placed himself next to him. He took a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t. What would he say? What would he do? Would he hate him? Love him? Despise him?

“You have to be. The time has come.”

The Sith Lord nodded and let Obi-Wan guide him. He felt so much he really didn’t feel anything. It was so overwhelming. His mind was blank, only his heart pounded and his hands shook. He could not make a coherent thought. He just walked at the rhythm Obi-Wan set. It felt concurrently too fast and too slow.

It didn’t seem possible. He was about to meet his son. A son he thought was never even born.

Before they reached their destination his old Master stopped him. “Anakin, he doesn’t know about Darth Vader. Please, don’t break his heart.”


	15. Whirlwind

He had never entered that room. He did not know what was inside. Darth Vader sensed Padmé’s presence. He also sensed the other. The Force radiated from him, he could feel it so clearly, despite the wall separating them.

Abruptly he was assaulted by an overwhelming sense of dread; his entire body reacted to it; even the mechanical part. He felt his knees budge. His heart seemed all too willing to jump out of his chest. “I can’t do this.” He whispered, a moment before Obi-Wan pressed the button to open the door. Suddenly he felt an incredible urge to run away; to leave that place and never come back; but something was freezing him to the very spot where he stood.

“The choice was taken from you, Anakin. He is here.” His old Master said, laying a gentle and coaxing hand on his back, like he had done so many times before when he was a boy.

It did not feel like enough assurance, he could still flee. “I can leave. You can tell him that I’m not here, that I was never here.” He could hear the urgency in his own voice, mixed with the loud thumping of his heart.

Kenobi released an almost exasperated sigh. “Don’t you think you allowed fear to govern your life for too long?” He waited for his response, but Vader knew not what to say.

He was right. Fear had been his undoing, his path to the Dark Side. It made him the beast he became.

Darth Vader made no answer, but Obi-Wan knew it was time. He opened the door and gave him a weak push until he crossed the threshold and heard the door hissing shut behind him.

Paralyzed he contemplated the scene before him. Only Padmé and Luke were in the room, sitting on a small grey sofa. Next to Padmé was an empty chair, upholstered with the same fabric as the other piece of furniture.

On the coffee table three glasses of clear water, almost filled to the brim, sat quietly and untouched.

Padmé was holding Luke’s hand in between hers, her cheeks were stained with tears. She was crying, but at the same time a smile adorned her lips. What a peculiar thing, Vader thought, to cry of happiness.

In unison, both looked at him. His family; the family he could have had. The family that had been stolen from him.

He couldn’t help but notice the deep blue of Luke’s eyes, the small dimple on his chin, his dark blond ashy hair.

His son looked like him. Vader didn’t want him to look like him. He wanted him to have his mother’s resolve and courage. He wished he had her commitment and principles; her unwavering kindness.

He was still a boy. Almost grown up, but not quite yet.

Vader was frozen, utterly at a loss of what to do or say. This moment, he could have never imagined it happening. He had spent so much time thinking they were all gone; killed by his foul hands.

What did he feel? He hardly knew, but his fear faded as he saw his son’s face light up at his sight.

_His son. My son._

“Anakin.” Padmé almost whispered, her breath labored by soft sobs. He could only find it in himself to smile. Not a word came out of his mouth. There was no way he could understand what that moment meant or felt like; let alone verbalize it in any way.

It was as if the entire world around them had been erased for just a moment. Nothing else existed but that room and the people in it.

She signaled for him to approach, also seemingly incapable of speaking. He was finally able to move away from the door and, walking almost shakily. Without as much as syllable he sat on the empty chair.

He found himself not knowing what to do even with his hands. So he laid them on his lap, rubbing them for fearing his brain was telling the nervous sensors on his prosthetics to shake too much.

Darth Vader continued mute. Anakin was just as silent.

At that moment, he didn’t even know who he was.

He wished he could store it forever in his mind and his heart.

“When I heard you were alive I had to come look for you.” Vader heard his son’s voice for the first time, talking directly to him. It was still a childish voice, it hadn’t completely changed. He felt his heart flutter. “Uncle Owen and aunt Beru didn’t want me to, so I sort of ran.” Luke said, rubbing the back of his head and wearing a frown.

Vader chuckled. So that’s where he had been all this time. It lifted a weight off him; they were good people. “I’m glad you came.” He spoke for the first time, unable to say more.

He wanted to hug him, but it would be imposing, so he stopped himself. He wanted to ask him about his life, but they had just met, so he didn’t.

There would be time. He hoped there would be more time. At least until Luke didn’t realize the monster his father truly was.

“We must comm them and tell them you are safe. They must be worried sick.” Padmé said and Luke nodded, a slight embarrassment crossed his features, causing him to wrinkle up his nose a little.

Darth Vader looked down at his hands. It didn’t feel right to stare. “Pad… mother was just telling me how you didn’t know I was alive. How everyone thought you were dead too.” The word mother sent a shiver down his spine; he had said it slowly, as if he had just learned how to pronounce it. He felt Padmé shifting in her seat next to him and being overrun by a new wave of tears.

“Yes.” He answered with a smile. What else could he say? At least the first part was true.

Maybe he should ask something? Maybe he should. He thought. Something harmless; he wanted for Padmé to have time to settle her feelings and he did not want to destroy this moment. “How did you get here?”

Luke started relaying his adventure. How he had found a transport on Anchorhead, (by the way, he still had to pay that bounty hunter), how he had asked around for the Rebellion and of course no one knew everything. He spent a couple of weeks with a band of pirates and finally learned how to fly an actual real spaceship and not just a speeder. He finally met up with someone from the Rebellion. A Jedi, no less. One his age. As soon as they heard his name they brought him here. Did they know their birthdays were just two days apart?

Padmé and Vader, or maybe it was Anakin, listened. His excitement and innocence were contagious. They smiled and laughed with him. Their son was sharing his life, as if all their sins had been forgiven. As if they hadn’t abandoned him the day he was born. He could sense the guilt in Padmé, swelling, overcoming her. He managed to get a hold of her hand and sent a wave of calming feelings through the Force. It had been so long since he had done that.

The parents did not speak much; they were content to listen. They would be content to just listen for the rest of their lives. Luke ended up drinking all three glasses of water. He spoke for hours. It was late when he declared he was tired, hungry and really had to talk to uncle Owen and aunt Beru, before they raised up the whole Galaxy looking for him.

Padmé chastised herself for not taking note of the time; surely it was way past his bedtime. Vader chuckled. Did fifteen year old boys still have a bedtime?

She put her arm over his shoulder protectively as they all left that room and entered the real world again.

As soon as he crossed the threshold once again he was interrupted and called to the command center. There was a possible lead on their target.

He regretted to leave them. Yet, he could not forget the promise he had made to Padmé. Vader would kill the Emperor for her. He would kill him for himself, for his children and for the entire Galaxy. However, he was sure the clue would just turn out to be another wild bantha chase.

There was no denying it was also a respite from all the emotions he had experienced; so many of them in so little time. They had gone from fear, to joy, to happiness, to anxiousness, to guilt and back again, in an endless cycle that the Sith had no ability to control.

He had experienced so many feelings and sensations impossible to assess or understand; feelings he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He thought back to the day when his mother died, to the day Padmé told him she was pregnant and to the day he fell to the Dark Side. Those were the ones he remembered going through a comparable whirlwind of emotions, and only one of those days had actually been good.

And the feeling in the Force Luke transmitted; it was something he had never experienced before. Surely one could tell he was not trained, for he projected his thoughts so vividly.

But his thoughts were of joy and excitement. It warmed his heart to know that he bore no ill-feelings towards his newly discovered. It also made him feel undeserving of such absolution.

If only he knew that his father was not the man he thought he was. He didn’t want to imagine how he would react when he told him the truth. But it had to be done and it would better be done by him. Everything would be over; he would despise him forever. But he couldn’t keep it from him. He too deserved the truth.

That night, while everyone rested, Vader sat fully clothed on his bed, alone with his musings. Wondering what he would do and what would happen next. He couldn’t bring himself to feel sad, despite everything.

He was truly happy that night. He didn’t deserve it, but he was. Vader decided to enjoy it while it lasted, for he was certain it would not be long.

Darth Vader sensed Padmé approaching before she knocked. He stood to open the door; sure of what he she wanted to speak of. As he opened the door, standing under it, she held him, resting her face on his chest. Vader couldn’t help embracing her in return. She stained his tunic with tears. Those were not tears of sadness; her happiness was so genuine that it brightened the Force around them, lighting the usually darkened room. It overflowed his senses. It was so beautiful.

“He looks so much like you.” She sobbed into his chest.

Vader chuckled sadly. “Let’s hope not.”

Padmé gazed into his eyes and took a step forward, the door closed behind him. “He does, like my Anakin. The way he spoke. And his eyes. He has your eyes.” She brushed her soft hand over his face and he instinctively leaned into her touch, closing his eyes; the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down his spine. “He looks up to you, admires you. You’re already a hero to him.”

Taking a deep sigh Vader opened his eyes and slipped away from his wife’s embrace. “I’m no hero, Padmé.”

Hero? He was a villain of the worst sort. A child murderer. He sat on the side of the bed, running his hands through his make believe locks that resembled almost perfectly the ones he was born with.

“You were. You will be again. Don’t make him believe otherwise. Please.” She took his face in between her hands, making him look up at her beautiful face. “Please.”

He was a murderer. Now she was asking him to be a liar. “He will find out, Padmé. It’s better that he knows from me.”

Padmé kept crying, tears flooding her cheeks. “I just want him to be happy.”

“I do too…” She wouldn’t let him finish.

“You promised you would do anything, Anakin. Please, promise me. I need your word.”

Vader released his face from her. “Don’t use that against me, Padmé. I’ve been used enough.” A pinch of anger awakened in him; not as much as it would normally be. But he could still feel it there, in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he had just been too happy to let himself give in to it. However, he could hardly believe she was asking him to lie to the son she hid from him and prevented him from meeting for fifteen years. That didn’t sound right. It could not be right.

“I’m sorry. I need you to promise me, Anakin. Please.”

He did promise that he would do anything, but it didn’t lessen is slight feeling of betrayal. He didn’t know why it felt so much like disloyalty. “I promise.” He finally said, bound by his earlier vow. “You should leave now.” Vader asked her and he could hear the coldness exuding from his voice. Padmé left without another word, having taken what she had wanted.

That night was a sleepless one. The next day he would have to lie to his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter father/son bonding becomes real!


	16. It Takes A Jedi

The light of dawn peeked through the shutters, bestowing the room stripes of golden glow that eliminated the darkness of the dying night. Vader felt so tired that even nature annoyed him. How ironic that he couldn't do that for himself; to find a beam of light to destroy the darkness within him.

He snickered and rolled his eyes at his own thoughts when he found himself thinking that the sun was surely mocking him.

It was better to stand, make himself busy, instead of fruitlessly pursuing the sleep he knew would not come.

Getting up from his bed he took a shower to wash away his exhaustion. It was a small relief. Vader remembered that too many sleepless nights often seemed to lead him to make disastrous decisions.

How many days had he been without sleep when he gave in to the Emperor? He was so desperate to run away from his nightmares that he didn't realize how clouded his judgment had become.

He put on his newly acquired robes. They looked faintly similar to Jedi robes; but were even darker than the ones he wore when he still had some honor; when the Galaxy called him a Knight. The black garments and cloak covered his body as he thought of the meaning of the word: Knight. A title of recognition of merit; a warrior of the Light.

He was never a true Knight. He was a lie.

All the monikers that he had been given throughout his life: Jedi Knight, Master to a Padawan, the hero with no fear.

Lies. They were all lies.

For his many faults, Vader had to recognize a quality about himself. He had always hated lies. He had hidden things before: the slaughter of the Tusken Raiders, his marriage, the conception of his children and it weighed on him.

When Anakin died, he stopped lying. Deception had cost him too much. He started lying again when the world demanded Anakin back.

But deceiving his own son. That he could not bear.

Yet, he had made a promise. He had to keep it, as hard as it was.

Vader pondered entering his Master's quarters so they would meditate as they had been doing every day for weeks. But he was already too frustrated. One day without it certainly wouldn't hurt.

He needed to keep busy, to maintain his mind occupied. He did what he always did when he needed respite from bothersome feelings. Vader made his way to the hangar.

Currently he had been working on a couple of ships. His old imperial ship, which he allegedly _stole_ from Darth Vader. It didn't need much technical improvement; he had already made adjustments to it. The changes had been mainly aesthetic. The imperial black and chrome meant nothing to him anymore.

However, that day he needed to see the wires, the clogs. He needed to feel the grease of the oil on his hands and the smell of fuel. The certainty of machines had always brought him a sense of peace. That was what he needed then. So he approached the beautiful starfighter that he had selected as his own shortly after _joining_ the Rebellion.

The T-65B X-wing starfighter was a magnificent ship. Probably better than the TIE fighters used by the Empire, albeit slower. It was the price to pay for the better shields, the heavier weaponry and the embedded long range hyperdrive. Vader, however, was making a true effort to make his own faster and able to outrun any TIE fighter the Emperor sent his way.

He heard Artoo beeping excitedly when he picked up the tools and removed the outside panel of the ship, exposing its wiring. "Good morning buddy." They always worked together. He was aware Artoo knew the truth about him, but good droid that he was, loyal to a fault, it would never betray him.

Together, droid and human got to work, all thoughts removed from his mind and centered on perfecting the already seamless machine. Hours passed by without warning.

"Weld this right here Artoo. Don't burn me, though." Vader told the droid as he held the cables together with a steady gloved hand.

"Hey!" Vader heard behind him, startled, he moved his hand slightly and felt the heat burn his glove. With a hiss he removed it, cables falling to the ground. No grave damage had been made to either the hand or the ship.

Luke was standing next to him. "I'm sorry, are you okay?" The young man asked; a concerned look spread on his face.

Vader shook his hand. Since the damage wasn't extensive, the pain sensors shut down quickly enough. "I'm fine. I didn't realize you were there." He didn't. He had been so distracted that the Force gave him no warning that he had company. A very unusual feeling, even when he was trying to shut himself out from the world. Artoo beeped again, worriedly. "I _am_ fine Artoo." The droid let out a string of angry whistles and bumped into Luke's legs. "Stop that! It's okay." Vader ordered the droid and it obeyed, notwithstanding the screech that sounded very much like a pout. The former Jedi rolled his eyes with amusement.

"That's a feisty droid." He smiled and looked at his son.

"He's a special droid. A lot of loose wires." Vader chuckled lightly. Luke smiled at his father.

Darth Vader examined his glove and realized it now had a hole on it, exposing the mechanical devices underneath. Inwardly he cursed the amount of questions he knew it would elicit from the young curious mind of his son. It was a blessing that, despite everything, his child was there, with him. Vader longed to speak with him, even though it made him nervous. But he truly wished to make up for lost time; to get to know this boy his and Padmé's love had created. He was so perfect, so vibrant. He saw him examine the glove, following his father's gaze.

"That's so cool. What happened to your hand?" The Sith frowned. Losing a limb was cool?

He thought carefully on how to phrase it. Somehow saying _a Sith Lord cut off my arm with a lightsaber in a duel_ seemed to have the potential of only bringing more unwanted questions. He could already imagine them: _what's a Sith Lord? Have you ever met one? Did you kill any?_ No. He cursed Padmé for forcing him to be bound by that promise; one he knew it wasn't right. "I lost it, in a fight."

"How about your scars?" Vader sighed.

"They're from a fight too."

"With Darth Vader?"

He wished you could tear his heart out. One lie of many more to come.

"You can say that." He responded simply and returned to his work, hoping to avoid the subject altogether.

Fortunately his efforts were successful, probably because the young man realized the subject was undesirable. "What are you doing?" Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder. He wasn't very tall and he hadn't finished his growth process. Vader stifled a snicker when he realized the boy was standing on his tiptoes.

"I'm trying to modify the shield generators; I need them to be lighter." Luke looked puzzled but didn't seem to want to ask. A flash of embarrassment seeped through the Force. Vader decided to continue. "You see, in deep space it doesn't make a difference, because there is no gravity. However, most battles happen in orbit, so the larger the mass, the greater is the gravitational pull on the ship, slowing it down considerably. Even though it's a great starfighter, it's much heavier than a TIE fighter, which has worse shields and no hyperdrive, but makes it significantly faster. If I can make the shield generators and the hyperdrive lighter and enhance the engines, maybe I can outrun a TIE."

His son's features lit up at the explanation and a wide smiled formed on his features. "That's awesome! Can I help?" Luke asked, excitedly.

"Of course." He answered with a smile. They spent hours together. He explained every step, the reason why each one was needed. Luke was a fast learner and absorbed all the information with thorough concentration, despite Artoo's cheerful beeps and whistles being a constant in the background.

The hangar had meanwhile filled with people. Vader noticed many of them stealing curious glances at them. He didn't really care, however. They were having too much fun. How long had it been since he had fun?

A burst of joy was settling within him. And of love. It was hard to imagine how it was possible to love someone so unconditionally after having known them for only one day. He and _his son_ , fixing a ship together, without worries or wars between Light and Darkness weighing them down. How could such an ordinary moment be so blissful? He wished it could last forever; that he could stop time and stay in that point in time eternally, when everything seemed so simple. But surely it would not last long, then again he would treasure it until his dying breath. At least that could not be taken from him.

Never, in his wildest and most hopeful dreams, had he conceived this possibility. He watched him as he screwed a loose bolt, and oiled a sheave, brows furrowed in deep concentration and he realized that this boy was the thing he loved most in the Galaxy.

They were interrupted by Padmé's voice. She approached them, carrying a trey and the most genuine smile he had ever seen on her. And although he loved seeing her smile, he still frowned at her presence. The previous night's events were not yet forgotten. He'd have to speak to her about it again. Every moment that went by, the perspective of lying seemed worse and, deep within him, the Force cast an ominous warning.

"I thought you two could be hungry." She said, beaming, extending the trey for her husband to take.

He did, thanking her quietly. Luke returned his mother's smile and she stood there for a while, seemingly stuck to the ground, her shoulders perked up, as if she was a giddy school girl.

"Will you join us?" Vader asked when she lingered, as he settled the trey on the floor next to the ship and sat down. Luke sat next to him, ready to attack the sandwiches.

Padmé shook her heard awkwardly. "Oh no. I already ate. I was just.. uhm.. making sure everything is alright. Is it? I mean, is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

Vader couldn't stop an eyebrow from rising. He had known Padmé for almost thirty years. He had never once seen her stammer. It was quite amusing, to tell the truth.

"We're alright, mother." Luke said and a flash of delight crossed her deep brown eyes.

"That's good. You boys have fun then." Padmé left, often looking back and smiling at the pair as she walked away.

"She gets all riled up when I call her mother. I suppose she's still getting used to it." Luke said and Vader had to chuckle. The way he phrased it was just beyond comical. "Can I call you father?" The boy asked.

Vader's heart fluttered, but he made sure he didn't show it. He wouldn't be teased like Padmé, not if he could help it. But he could not avoid the heat that invaded his cheeks. He cleared his throat before answering, making sure his voice would not break. "Of course."

Luke smiled. "Alright, father."

If he was alone, he would cry. He was sure he would cry. To weep of happiness and satisfaction. Such a foreign feeling it was, it was hard to be able to contain it. But he endured, he had to. He would not run away and spoil this. So he maintained a cool façade.

"Ben… I mean, Obi-Wan told me he was your Jedi Master." The young man continued. Vader wasn't sure whether it was a question or not.

"He was." He decided to answer either way.

The boy eyed his father curiously, a thought crossed his mind. "You think maybe I could be a Jedi like you?"

Vader exhaled a sharp whisper. He'd been a Jedi for a fair potion of his life; is that what he wanted for his son? A life of sacrifice, following a Code that would sever his life in half and that, good intentions aside, was filled with meaningless teachings. Maybe not. But it was not his choice to make. "You are strong with the Force." He thought that was the best answer and smiled at his own understatement.

But it was enough for Luke's face to beam with the world of possibilities it could bring. He remembered himself, when Qui-Gon Jinn told him he would take him and train him to become a Jedi. He thought he would become a warrior for good and peace, that he would see the entire Galaxy.

When had he lost himself on the path of his dreams?

"I am?" Vader nodded and offered a weak smile. "What exactly is the Force though? How does it work?"

The boy's father chuckled. "Well you don't ask easy questions, do you?" He paused to think. What was the Force? Apart from Light and Dark? What was it as a whole? "Well, it is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together." He couldn't help repeating his old Master's words. He would never forget them. "The Force is all around us; it's in everything you touch and see. In every sound and smell. It's also within you." He said, lightly poking Luke's chest with his gloved index finger and smiling. "There would be no life without the Force. How it works? Well, it depends on how much your body is capable of sensing it. There's a microscopic life form called midi-chlorians that lives in every living being. The more you have, the more able to wield the Force you are; if you have the proper training."

Luke gaped. "Wow, that sounds so cool!"

"It is pretty cool." Vader offered with a smile and a nod, amusing himself by using his son's language.

The boy shifted on his seat, forgetting the half eaten sandwich in his hand. "So maybe you could teach me? Like Obi-Wan taught you."

Darth Vader shook his head. It was nauseating to even _think_ of teaching Luke the foul and twisted ways he had found to wield the Force; to taint his innocence in that manner. No, he would not allow it. He would never do it. "It takes a Jedi to train a Jedi, Luke. And I'm not a Jedi anymore." And for some reason, having to admit it to his son, made his heart fill with sadness and reminded him of the days when, despite all their failings, he loved the Jedi; he loved to _be_ a Jedi. Even that had been destroyed by Sidious.

"Oh." The pinch of disappointment in his voice was obvious. "Why not?"

Vader looked at him.

_Because I fell to the Dark Side and have been murdering thousands of Jedi over the last fifteen years._

That's what he should have said. Not that he wanted to say it. He'd lose his son again. Yet that was what was right.

But he promised her.

"Too many rules. I was never good at following them." He faked a smile. Knowing what the next question was he decided to get ahead of the boy. "Marrying was forbidden and I married your mother. If I hadn't broken the rules, you would never have been born."

_And I would have never fallen._

What a bitter thought. To be a true Jedi would have cost him everything he loved the most. But he would do it if he could go back and undo all the dreadful deeds he had done.

Luke threw his unfinished sandwich on the trey and slumped his shoulders with a huff. Sensing the obvious frustration, Vader ask something he would never imagined himself asking. "Is that what you really want? To be a Jedi Knight?"

The boy nodded his head. "Yeah, but you say you can't train me. It would be so amazing though. To travel across the Galaxy, helping people in need. You know, just do good things."

Vader smiled, content with the innocent reply. Despite his failures, maybe his son's dreams could come true. "You know there _are_ other Jedi. You should ask Obi-Wan. I'm sure he would be delighted to teach you the ways of the Force; and he is a great Master. But if you ever tell him I said that I will deny it."

Luke laughed. "Okay father. I'll ask him. I'll be a Jedi. And maybe we can change the rules and you can go back to being a Jedi again."

Darth Vader smirked at the prospect. First he would have to be Anakin again. "Just tell your mother first. Or she'll kill the three of us. She's tougher than she looks."

Father and son laughed together and went back to work.

Sadness only came when the day ended.


	17. This Weapon Is Your Life

The memories that flashed through his mind as he watched from afar were, sometimes, overwhelming. It had been four months since Luke had arrived in Yavin 4 and still, he could not get himself accustomed to the feelings that sprouted within him when, from the hangar, he watched from a distance as his old Master taught his new young Padawan the ways of the Force.

The familiarity of it all was, more often than not, all too pleasing, plastering a genuine, albeit sorrowful smile on his face. Those scenes reminded him of all he had and lost, of the man he used to be. Yet, simultaneously, it brought him true joy. It was an odd feeling whenever e saw Obi-Wan standing behind Luke as he taught him the subtleties of lightsaber combat, sometimes gently holding the hands of his young apprentice within his to trace the movements as he slowly explained them and then stepped away to watch the young man do it himself.

Obi-Wan had done the same with him, when he was much younger than Luke, and a lot less coordinated. The patience was something that now, looking back and witnessing it from the outside, Vader must admire.

He could not help but feel his chest fill with pride at every new accomplishment his son achieved. One day, not long ago, he had been working on his starfighter with Artoo, when it suddenly began lifting from the ground.

Of course he knew what was happening before even looking back and watching his son reach out with the Force and lift the heavy object from the floor, his eyes closed in concentration, and Obi-Wan, standing behind him, rubbing his beard with a proud smile on his lips.

It was astounding how quickly the boy learned. He was truly gifted. The Force was truly strong with him, like he had never seen in anyone other than himself.

It filled him with pride, but also with dread. Sidious, now lacking an apprentice, would surely covet that sort of power; like he had coveted his. But Luke was so much more; his body was not damaged, he was young and fast and clever. If he were ever to reach his full potential Vader wouldn’t want him as his adversary and neither would the Emperor.

The Emperor would want him as his pet. He had taken his concerns to Padmé; it was yet another reason to tell him the truth. But she would not listen, arguing that they would never allow the Sith to get a hold of their son and thus, there was nothing to worry about. So she held him to his word.

But Padmé did not have the Force and did not hear it screaming warnings like he did, inside his very soul.

However, he realized his efforts were fruitless, so he stopped pressing the matter, resigning himself to the knowledge that whatever had to happen would happen and that, when the time came, he would have to do his best to keep his son from falling into Sidious’ venomous claws.

His own training had not been abandoned. Every day, at dawn, he would go into his Master’s quarters and together, they would meditate. Ever since Luke had arrived, for some reason, reaching the Light Side seemed easier. But the darkness was still there and he feared it would always be. And it was still dominant. He often touched the Light, but his grasp was frail, and it would quickly fade into nothingness.

It was, however, enough to give him hope that, one day, he would be able to hold on. If only he was given the right set of circumstances. Had it not been that way that he had embraced the Dark Side? Maybe it would take motivation to do the same with the Light. But now he knew, he knew Darth Vader was not all that was in him; he knew that somewhere, Anakin lurked, biding his time to return, perhaps permanently.

His anger and hate were somehow contained. Those moments when the Force lit up around him he took to release his feelings. Only now he was understanding how it worked. What a foolish boy he had been. That was all they did. Obi-Wan guided him gently through the process and it was all it took.

“Breathe, Anakin. There. Let go.” He would say and his soothing voice was enough.

There were no sparring matches, no lightsaber trainings. He did not need them; he knew that, strong as Obi-Wan was, he was aging. He could not match him again.

Not even Yoda, if he was still alive. Vader suspected he was, but dared not ask.

The only man in the Galaxy capable of defeating him was the very one he had to kill. It was not an encouraging thought.

Preparations, however, were already being made. Somehow a plan was forming. They were not ready to storm the Imperial City and take the Emperor out; so they were trying the take the next best thing. That technological monstrosity Sidious so unsubtly dubbed the Death Star; he had always loved making a spectacle of himself. And Vader had been living proof of it. To give him that suit, that mask. The sight of him alone had been enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Sidious reveled in that sort of power; the visual one, the kind that screamed in people’s faces.

Old fool.

At last, after months of searching, there was a lead; an unsettling one, to be sure, but a lead nonetheless. Reportedly, a large object that resembled a moon had been orbiting Alderaan for at least four days. Considering that Bail Organa was one of the leaders of the Rebel Alliance, the presence of the planet killer over his system was concerning.

Besides, it was supposed to be under assembly and that was not a good construction-site. It was too deep in the core; too many hyperspace lanes went by it and there was too much traffic for it to be safe.

Vader could only hold on to the hope that, after his departure, the Emperor hadn’t decided to rush the battle station’s completion.

They could not, however, risk a full blown battle over such a heavily populated planet without being sure; the risk of planet side casualties was too high. Vader and a small group would go ahead as scouts as the fleet stood by for confirmation.

With the destruction of the Death Star, the Sith who used to oversee its construction, ironically, sat lazily on his bed, going through the plan that was meant to the destroy it in a datapad. He sighed. It wasn’t a bad plan, but it relied entirely on his piloting skills.

His eyes lifted when he sensed Obi-Wan and Luke arriving. They had been gone for almost a fortnight. The Jedi Master didn’t tell him where he had taken his young Padawan; but he had his suspicions.

Without a knock, as had become usual whenever his young son decided to visit, the door to his quarters slid open. Despite the invasion of privacy he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as soon as Luke entered, lightsaber clasped in his hand.

“Look!” He said, grinning and showing the hilt to his father right before igniting the emerald blade dangerously close to his father’s face.

“Hey! Be careful with that!” Vader warned. “It’s not a toy.”

Luke rolled his eyes and he extinguished the blade. “Relax.” Obi-Wan chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe.

Vader extended his gloved hand and his son laid the weapon on his palm, the look in his eyes suggested he wished approval. The Sith clasped the weapon, felt its weight and ignited it, feeling its balance. “It’s a good lightsaber.” He said, handing it back to its rightful owner and receiving a smile. He couldn’t help noticing it was very similar to Obi-Wan’s.

“We went to a Jedi Temple on Lothal, and I found a crystal there and built it myself. With the Force, like Master Kenobi showed me.” He smiled. “He said Jedi usually went to Ilum, but it’s being mined for crystals by the Empire.” Vader couldn’t help a flash of guilt crossing his features. They had been mining it. Not only for kyber crystals for the Death Star, but out of pure spite. To take Ilum was just another stab at the Jedi.

“Well, Kanan and his young Padawan told me there were crystals in the Lothal Jedi Temple. I thought it would be safer than trying to sneak into Ilum.” The Jedi Master explained. It was, of course. The caves in Ilum, Darth Vader knew, were all but destroyed and littered with stormtroopers, in case any Jedi appeared.

Suddenly he remembered when he built his first lightsaber. He had a vision of Darth Maul. He had eventually lost it in Geonosis, just days before he married Padmé. He sighed, there was no use on dwelling on long lost memories.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his son’s shoulder, he decided it was better to change the subject. “You’ve arrived just in time, Obi-Wan. There are reports of the Death Star orbiting Alderaan. We are leaving in the morning for a reconnaissance mission.” He handed the datapad to the old Master, who started reading it immediately. “It’s a quick one. Maybe you would like to join me and Ahsoka. We go in, get visual confirmation, relay to the fleet and I get us out of that tractor beam. We will rendezvous with the fleet in time for the assault.”

Obi-Wan nodded, not taking his eyes from the device still in his hand. “Very well. It’s quite a simple mission. You will come too Luke.”

The young man positively beamed with excitement upon hearing his Master’s announcement. His father, on the other hand, not quite. Luke was too young; far too young, to be put in harm’s way. These were not the Jedi Order of old, where children were sent to fight wars, like he had done to Ahsoka, much to his regret. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea.” He said, his glare burning into Obi-Wan’s eyes.

The old Master, however, was not to be swayed. He crossed his arms. “Anakin, I took you everywhere when you were fifteen. Force forbid I didn’t, lest I’d want to withstand your moping for a month. It’s a simple enough assignment. Luke will be perfectly safe.”

Bad comparison, he thought. Very bad indeed. “When _I_ was fifteen, I had six years of training. Not four months.” He uttered, through clenched teeth.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Well, maybe Luke learns faster than you did.”

“Come on father.” The boy interjected, pleading. “We’ll just be cooped up in a ship. It will be alright.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Vader couldn’t avoid the headache he felt coming on. “Fine, you can come. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

As much as he liked action, Darth Vader was not looking forward to the moment they would be leaving for Alderaan. Truthfully, ever since he had agreed that his son could accompany them, the feeling that said he had made a mistake had not abandoned him yet. The Force was sending him a warning and warnings of the Force were not to be discarded.

He watched as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan entered the ship. His old imperial vessel looked much different. It was no longer black, but yellow and white. The interior was still mostly untouched.

Vader waited for Luke as his mother bid her farewells to him. She had been wary of the idea of him being trained as a Jedi; but after much pleading from the boy she had finally agreed. Darth Vader was not fond of her objections. His train might serve him well and, in the end, it was his choice to make. But he could understand as well. She had lost her child long ago and she had no desire to lose him again.

The young man made his way to the ramp. His father grabbed his arm. His sense of foreshadowing was becoming increasingly overwhelming. “Luke, I sense a disturbance in the Force.” He said, quietly. “If something happens, hold on to that.” He gazed towards the newly built lightsaber. “This weapon is your life.” Vader repeated the words that his Master had so often ingrained into his mind and that, more often than not, saved his life.

Luke’s tone was solemn when he responded. “I know father.”

Vader put a hand around his son’s shoulder and they entered the ship together and in silence.

Eventually he took his seat in the pilot’s chair. As he lifted off, the nagging feeling from the Force insisted on not abandoning him, the Sith put those thoughts aside. The best was to concentrate on the moment. Whatever would come to be, he would handle it.

As the lights from hyperspace started passing by them, the feeling only worsened. There was nothing he could do anymore, it was too late to go back. All he could do was mutter under his breath. “May the Force be with us all.”


	18. Live To Fight Another Day

As large as a moon, there it stood. In all its opulence, it rotated slowly around itself, as if it were a real planet. If one looked from afar, it seemed like it was a small, grey and barren planet with a crater centered perfectly above its equator; harmless and silent.

It was nothing of the sort.

It was a beast. A monstrosity designed for the single purpose of creating fear. With its menace looming over the freedom fighters of the Galaxy, no one would dare to defy the Empire. The Rebellion would be vanquished in one foul swoop; all the systems that sympathized with it would surrender or suffer the same fate.

Vader had seen it before, but, even he, after such a long time, was awed by it. He was also troubled by its seeming state of completion.

“That’s no Moon.” Said Obi-Wan, as he stood behind him. No one answered. It was never meant to be answered.

The ship took a bump. They were finally caught in the tractor beam. Vader exhaled a sharp breath. “Tell the Fleet we have visual confirmation, Ahsoka. Artoo, prepare to divert all auxiliary power to the engines and reverse thrusters on my mark.” He barked his orders, like he always had, even long before he had become Darth Vader.

As Vader began travelling his fingers through the buttons and switches of the ship, ready to get them out of their self-imposed conundrum, he sensed Obi-Wan next to him. The Jedi shifted uncomfortably. He paused and looked. The Jedi Master was nervously rubbing the beard on his chin. He was sure now, that the dreadful feeling he had been given by the Force had finally chosen yet another recipient.

He felt uncomfortable because, until that moment, he still hoped it would just prove to be merely a father’s concern for the well-being of his son.

“I sense something.” His old Master replied quietly. They both did. Something… _Something._

But what?

As if on cue, the communications system beeped with an incoming transmission and a small hologram of Bail Organa came to life, snatching Vader from his troublesome musings. The urgency on his features was evident, even before he spoke a word. “Master Skywalker, Master Kenobi. You cannot return to the fleet yet. I repeat, you cannot return to the fleet.”

“Why not?” Vader spat the question but continued working on releasing them from the tractor beam. His fingers set the engines to full power, with their mechanical precision. But his heart had lost all sense of rhythm. This was it; the time had come for the Force to reveal its message.

The hologram flickered again. “We’ve received an open transmission from Moff Tarkin. They are holding my daughter in the Death Star. A trade was proposed: they will release her if I turn myself in. I am on the way, but I fear that neither of us will survive this encounter. And I fear even more that something worse might happen.” The Senator attempted to keep his tone calm, but its distress could not be hidden. “Master Kenobi, we both know that it is paramount that Leia survives.”

And then Darth Vader saw it, the knowing look that was exchanged by the two men. He looked from one to the other.

“You must go in and rescue her.” The Senator pleaded. He opened his mouth to speak further, but the hologram suddenly disappeared. Their communications had been jammed.

The Sith Lord looked out of the cockpit. They were approaching the battle station rapidly. They were running out of time. He could already see the outline of windows and the reflection of the metal from its hull.

Obi-Wan stood and ran his hand through his beard, his frustration was plastered on his features. “Anakin, I must speak with you.”

“We have to go back to the fleet and drop off Luke! Then we come back and rescue the girl!” Vader spoke, raising his voice. He could not take Luke inside that death trap. He would not. He was only a boy.

“We have to go get her, father! We can’t just leave her!” Luke protested. But his objections were offered no response. There was no time.

“Anakin, just please, take one minute and come speak with me.” Obi-Wan said, setting a hand on his old apprentice’s shoulder.

Vader looked out of the cockpit again. This was it. They were getting dangerously close. He could see the outline of the ships that were in the main hangar. “We don’t have one minute! Whatever you must say…”

“She’s your daughter!” Obi-Wan’s sudden and discomposed interruption silenced Vader.

The Sith looked at the old Master. Suddenly his hands stopped just above the console that was placed before of him with its flickering lights. He gazed wide-eyed at the Jedi. A rush of fury washed over him but it soon vanished.

His daughter was inside. His son would be too. Vader took a look at the Padawan, him too silenced by the revelation. Shock adorned his features; his mouth was even a little open. Vader could see the boy’s chest rising and falling rapidly; as if the air in the room was not enough.

What would he do? What would they do?

The Sith Lord stood and ran a hand through his hair. A wave of thoughts ran through his mind. His daughter was in there. His son would be too, soon. He could not leave either; or choose one over the other.

If he took Luke to safety and returned to get the girl, it might be too late. But, if he took Luke with him and they failed, they would be one step closer to being in the Emperor’s grasp.

He stood and looked outside again.

Too late. Far too late. There was no turning back now. The choice had been taken from them. They were almost upon the entrance of the hangar.

And there he was, useless, unable to say or do anything.

Instinctively he took a hand to his son’s back, and rubbed it slightly. He didn’t know why, but he felt him slightly relaxing.

Ripping him from the worthlessness of his thoughts, Ahsoka finally spoke. “Okay, you can all talk about your feelings later. Right now, we need a plan.”

She was right. They needed a plan, but he could think of none. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Actually yes. We need to get out of here. Obi-Wan and Luke can go disable the tractor beam. You and I go get Leia.”

“A plan involves mode of execution Ahsoka! Not merely stating your objectives.” He pointed her finger at her, a flash of rage crossed him. But he took a deep breath and stifled it.

“Artoo can access the computers and find the location of the princess. We also have a readout of the plans for Obi-Wan. When it’s all done we meet here and get the hell off this thing. Is that mode of execution enough for you?”

The Sith looked out of the cockpit once more. They were almost landing. He narrowed his eyes. “You go with Obi-Wan. I’ll take Luke.” The idea of separating from his son at this pivotal time was most unwelcome.

“Anakin, they’re used to working together. And so are we. Besides, getting the princess will be a lot more dangerous. Maybe they can disable the tractor beam unnoticed. We will surely not go in and out of the detention area without opposition. This is for the best.” Ahsoka explained. Her tone wise and calm. If he wasn’t so overwhelmed by the atrocious feeling the Force was bestowing upon him, he would surely have the time to feel proud of her.

She was right, of course. But still, it was hard to even consider leaving Luke behind. Vader looked at Obi-Wan, who gave him a reassuring gaze. He knew what it meant. He’d take care of him.

There was no one he trusted more than Obi-Wan to keep his son out of harm’s away. Probably he trusted him more than he trust himself.

The ship took a slight bump again. They were on firm ground. A feeling of urgency invaded Darth Vader. He had been in that hangar so many times, but not once he had felt like that.

He remembered the last time he was there. He was almost as frightening as the battle station itself; and surely almost as deadly. He’d commanded that hanger. Thousands of men had gathered and knelt before him. They had been nothing but his subordinates.

But that day, he would go in and he would be powerless. All he had was his weapon and the Force.

With the Force he reached out. There were barely any stormtroopers there. That was unusual. He looked out of the glass towards the hangar. Three were approaching the ship.

“Fine.” He finally voiced his agreement, knowing that it was the best course of action, yet feeling that somehow it was wrong. “There are barely any stormtroopers here. This is concerning.”

Master Kenobi nodded. “I sense a trap. And you know what we do with traps, Anakin.” A faint smile formed on the Jedi’s lips, as if momentarily his thoughts traveled back to a distant time, a time before all the pain they had both endured.

“What? What do we do with traps?” Luke asked and the excitement exuded from his voice. It was so familiar; the thrill of one’s first dangerous mission.

Vader found it in himself the ability to bequeath a smile to his child, remembering the far away time when he had it all and foolishly thought he had nothing. “We spring them.” But his smile quickly faded. “If it’s a trap, then he knew I was coming.” He turned his gaze to Obi-Wan.

The Jedi sighed. “Yes. This is troubling. But we don’t have a choice. The Force will guide us.”

“Alright. Let’s go then. Be careful out there.” He told Luke and Obi-Wan.

“You too father.” Luke said, picking up the lightsaber from his belt and clasping it tightly within his fingers.

“Anakin, may the Force be with you.” For some reason, his Master’s words made him lose his breath for a moment. His foreboding feeling only intensified.

He should never have gone there. Never.

“May the Force be with you, Master.” He felt like he needed to say it, that word. Master. Because, even though he had been under the rule of another, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been his only true Master, the only one who had taught him anything worth learning, the one who had given everything for him. He felt an uncontrollable urge to hug him, so he did, briefly. And as he did, he whispered in his brother’s ear. “Forgive me.”

Obi-Wan said nothing. But he sensed it through the Force: acceptance, love, trust and even pride. And, despite knowing he was undeserving, he welcomed it.

They left the ship; the most unexpected and yet strangely natural group the Galaxy had ever seen. A Sith amongst Jedi, tainting their light and, simultaneously, drinking from it, breathing it, as if it was needed for his very survival.

There were few stormtroopers in the hangar. As soon as he came face to face with them Vader realized those were his men. The 501st Legion, Vader’s Fist, as they had been called for many years. He respected them, trusted them and he knew, for certain, that the Emperor knew he was inside the lion’s den.

They disposed of them quickly. Vader killed no one. His lightsaber strokes were careful and softer than usual. He was tired, tired of killing. He had meaninglessly ended too many lives.

It was enough.

He had never thought of it. But in that moment, when he lit his blue fiery blade, he decided he was done killing.

As soon as the hangar was cleared, Artoo accessed the battle station’s mainframe. He beeped and whistled his location. “Detention block AA-23. Cell 2187.” Vader announced, translating the droid’s binary.

“Artoo, stay with the ship.” Ahsoka said. The little one whistled his compliance.

The time had come for them to part ways. Before turning to his destination, the Sith spoke to his Jedi son. “Luke, do whatever Obi-Wan says. Stay safe.” The young man nodded his agreement and followed his Master.

Vader watched them as they left.

He instantly felt the urge to follow. But Leia needed him too. Leia. _His daughter._

It seemed impossible. After fifteen years believing he had lost everything, he was finally discovering that the only thing he had actually lost was himself.

He sighed. There was no time to think; no time to dwell. Not even to say goodbye; just in case goodbyes would be needed.

But they wouldn’t be, would they? They could not.

Vader took off, presenting the path while Ahsoka followed. He was, of course, very well acquainted with the route to the detention block. What astonished him, and worried him, was the incredible lack of stormtroopers. Their presence was sparse and the few they encountered hardly put up a fight.

He knew these men; they were the best in the Empire. They were certainly better than this.

“This is not right.” Vader told his Padawan; the trepidation in his voice was obvious. He could not hide it even if he tried. “There are hundreds of thousands of stormtroopers in this battle station. And we have a clear path.”

“I know, Master.” She said, as she peeked over a corner. It was hard not to notice how she began slightly hyperventilating. The words that followed mismatched her disposition. “We’ll get out of this. We will find a way. We always do.”

Vader moved ahead first. They reached the detention block quickly, continuing to find little to no resistance. As soon as they entered, only two technicians were in the room. They disabled them quite easily, leaving them both unconscious. They didn’t even have time to reach the alarm. Vader looked through the door as Ahsoka approached the computer terminal where the battle station’s workers had been laboring, and clicked the door to the intended cell to open. They heard it slide open, but didn’t see it through the long corridor.

Standing under the doorframe, his lightsaber ignited and tightly gripped in his hand, despite knowing no one would come, Darth Vader kept looking out.

“You can come out! We’re here to take you home.” Ahsoka spoke aloud and a few seconds later Vader looked as a young girl in a white dress left one of the cells and stared suspiciously at them. She began approaching and it suddenly struck him. She looked so much like Padmé; like her mother. So, so beautiful.

He had known about the Princess of Alderaan before; but had never actually met her. He wondered, if he had, while he was under the influence of the Emperor, would he have seen the resemblance? And if he had, what would he have done?

The question made his spine shudder and the answer scarcely mattered anymore. He dismissed the intruding thought.

The girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Who the hell are you? I can’t believe you brought swords to a gun fight! Don’t you have blasters?”

If Darth Vader was not so troubled, he would have laughed.

The corridor outside the detention block had now been forgotten. He looked at his daughter, trying desperately not to stare. He suspected he was failing miserably.

Vader heard Ahsoka chuckle. She picked up the blaster of one of the workers and threw it to Leia. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. This is –“ she hesitated. “Anakin Skywalker. Senator Organa sent us to bring you home.”

Leia checked her new blaster, and took the safety off. “Anakin Skywalker? The one who killed Vader?” She spoke to him.

“So they say.” He answered, finally finding his voice. It wasn’t technically a lie.

The young woman huffed as she walked towards him, ready to check outside the corridor. “Well, I guess we’ll see what you are actually made of, _Master_ Skywalker.”

“You have no idea…” He muttered under his breath.

Leia peeked through the door to the corridor. “Great, and you’ve been caught in a trap. This is way too quiet.”

“I am aware.” Vader responded. The girl had a sharp tongue and a propensity to roll her eyes. It was actually quite amusing, had it not been for the situation they found themselves in. She was definitely her father’s daughter. Anakin’s daughter, he reminded himself.

“Let’s go.”

Vader led the way, followed closely by Leia. Ahsoka came last, covering their backs. The trip to the hangar was almost as uneventful as the trip from it. They reached the ship and entered it. Obi-Wan and Luke were nowhere to be found.

Sitting on the pilot’s chair he got the ship to come to life, turning the engines on, even setting the hyperspace coordinates for their escape. And then they waited.

The Sith stood, pacing about the room.

Waiting.

He tried the communication unit and got no response.

He looked through the cockpit window. There was nothing.

Vader could not wait anymore.

“Something happened, I’m going after them.” And the sooner he had said it, the sooner it would happened.

He saw it from behind the glass. A door swooshed open, Obi-Wan and Luke ran through it. And after them a countless number of white armored bodies followed. There must have been hundreds of them. The blue and green lightsabers were ignited as Master and Padawan deflected the blaster shots and walked backwards towards him.

How had he not sensed this coming? How? Unless someone was purposely attempting to cloud his perceptions in the Force. Palpatine.

With the Force he called upon the lightsaber that was already clasped to his belt and it landed firmly on his palm. He ran outside and sensed that Ahsoka and Leia followed.

“Luke! Come on!” He said, as the blasts started reaching them too. Leia stood next to him, blaster in hand, shooting against the stormtroopers, and, more often than not hitting them.

Another blast door, to their left, made a muffled sound as it slid open. More of them. There were _so many_ of them.

Vader lifted his right hand and with the Force managed to knock the first row down. But the ones behind just stepped over them and walked in. Making their way towards them.

There were _too many_ of them.

Vader was hardly able to deflect the blasts that were directed at them.

He looked at Luke, he turned and tried to make a run in their direction. A stormtrooper aimed at him. He shot. But Luke didn’t fall.

Obi-Wan, it was Obi-Wan.

Even before it was possible to see it coming, the Jedi shielded his young apprentice with his own body and he fell.

“No! Master!” Vader heard a scream come out of his mouth. But it seemed so foreign, it didn’t seem like his own voice, muffled as it was by the sound of hundreds of blasters firing. And he felt it. His Master’s life leaving him. It was a sharp pain; as if his heart was being torn out from his chest. The distraction cost him a blaster scrape to his right side.

He didn’t even have time to hurt.

Luke hesitated, he knelt down next to his Master, his mouth was saying words that he could not hear.

The noise was deafening.

Vader ran towards him.

Too late. He had been too slow. A group of troopers surrounded him and grabbed him, taking him, taking his son away.

The group from the left was now approaching.

They were completely overwhelmed. There was no possibility of surviving this if they didn’t run away.

But Luke, how could he leave Luke?

Ahsoka, who had been behind him all along; ran past him towards the stormtroopers, her lightsabers ignited. Vader tried to run after her, but with the Force she pushed him back.

He looked at Luke. He was no longer there. Where was he? They had taken him away. Ahsoka was following towards the path that his son had been but, for a second, she turned back. “Master, take her home. Live to fight another day.”

And then she charged in.

So brave; she had always been so brave.

He felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but it was not the time.

The barrage of shots that were coming towards them was now nearly impossible to deflect. 

Vader looked at his daughter; taking cover behind him, next to the wall of the ship.

He’d lose both his children. Again.

He took her by the arm, and started climbing the ramp. “Artoo, get us out of here.”

His ship took off and went into hyperspace as soon as it cleared out of the hangar.

Vader sat on the pilot’s chair, his hands went to his hair. He could hear Leia quietly sobbing next to him. She was so scared. They were both scared.

This could not have happened. It was a nightmare. It could _not_ have happened. His rational thoughts were blocked from his mind.

His Master was dead. His Apprentice would soon be too.

And his son was facing a fate worse than death. Vader knew. He would shortly be on his way to Darth Sidious. They had taken him right to him, right into his profane clutches.

Vader put his arms around her daughter, trying to offer her some comfort while her tears fell on the shoulder of his tunic.

And he could hold his tears no longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end!!!! Only a few more to go!!


	19. Stand Up, Anakin

The _Home One._ That’s where he landed his former imperial vessel; as it had been previously settled.

Bitterly he thought that it had been the only thing that had gone as intended.

It was supposed to have been simple. It turned out to be anything but.

Leia had long escaped from her estranged father’s embraced and asked about the only one she had ever known. He didn’t know how to answer but, in his stupor, he didn’t even remember he could try to contact the flagship to find about Bail Organa’s whereabouts. And neither did Leia.

He had gazed upon his little girl’s face, hardened from just having witnessed death right before her eyes. She deserved better than that.

Once they reached the rendezvous point, aboard Admiral Ackbar’s ship, Vader could not find it in him to stand from his seat. He watched as Leia stood and ran out, calling out for her father. The one who had given her the love her true father was incapable of feeling for so long.

He heard as the ramp to the ship lowered and Leia’s light footsteps stomped on the metal.

And he stayed there; unable to form a coherent thought. Only scattered words came into his mind.

_Obi-Wan. Dead. Ahsoka. Gone. Luke. Lost._

He set his elbows on the console in front of him, he heard noises of buttons being accidentally pressed, and paid them no attention as he buried his head between his hands.

Vader felt a fresh set of tears welling up inside him, but refusing to be released. He thought the moment he could not take it anymore had come and, for a moment, wished that Padmé had actually gone through with killing him that day in Mustafar.

If he had died, Luke would still be safe on Tatooine. Obi-Wan would still be there, hidden, but alive, and looking after his son. Ahsoka would still be fighting for the Rebellion from the shadows. Leia would not have witnessed a good man being murdered in front of her. Padmé would be free.

“I shouldn’t have come back.” He whispered and sent the same thought through the Force. His Master was with it now. Resting in its never-ending light, forever.

 _Anakin._ He heard his name. He was certain he was going mad. His Master was dead. He would never say his name again. Darth Vader would never hear him speak again. He would never hear him scolding him or making one of his subtle quips, or giving him advice that they both knew he would never listen to.

 _Stand up, Anakin._ His Master’s voice floated around him like a whisper in a gush of wind.

“I can’t.” He whispered back for no reason, sure that he was only speaking to himself, like the mad man that he was. “How can I go on without you? How will I escape the darkness? It’s all lost.”

_Stand up, Anakin. It’s time for you to become who you were always meant to be._

“I’m a monster.”

_You’re a Jedi. You’re a father. Luke needs you. Everyone needs you. You are not defeated yet. There is good in you. Let it come out. Free yourself, Anakin._

All he had ever wanted was to be free; that is why he had always broken the rules. He knew that then, at that point in time.

 _Free myself._ He thought, willing himself to do it. Reaching into the Force, for only there could he ever be released. Only the Force would help him. His mind dove deeper, he had to lose himself before finding his bearings, or he would just stay there in the darkness forever.

But he could not go on like this. All his pain was taking his breath away; killing him slowly.

_Free myself._

He felt an invisible, albeit familiar hand rest on his shoulder. And he felt a wave of light running through him, surrounding him. It encompassed all of him, pushing the darkness away. He reached out into the Force and it was blinding and warm, like the spring sun of Naboo warming the deep waters of the Lake on Varykino, like the Room of a Thousand Fountains filled with the laughter of children, like his daughter’s quick and sarcastic remarks, like his son’s presence in the Force, like his Master’s warm embrace, like his wife’s body against him after a battle.

It scurried it all away: the desperation, the anger, the hatred, the fear. It replaced them with love and warmth and hope, as if it were an epiphany of brightness.

He felt it cling to him, wash him clean of his nightmares, pushing him back into the world and under the shining sun.

A million voices spoke in his mind. There was Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, Mace, Jax. There were the innocent voices of children, like a choir of angels singing in a well-lit opera house.

 _We forgive you._ They chanted in perfect unison. _We forgive you._

He let his tears escape as he felt himself act through the Force and pull Darth Vader out of him, and stomping him to his final demise, erasing the Darkness forever.

With tear stained cheeks Anakin Skywalker felt like himself for the first time. He looked up. His Master stood next to him, a blue glow surrounded him. “I forgive you, Anakin. You know what you must do. Stand up, Anakin.”

And Anakin Skywalker rose, free from the shackles that bound him for the entirety of his life. Free from the fear and the hate that had followed him for as long as he could remember.

For the first time ever, he was he. The feeling that this was what was natural overwhelmed him and he wondered how he had never known this sensation before. It was so peaceful not to be afraid anymore.

His mask was gone at last; turned into ash. All that was left was what had lingered inside of it for his entire life; hidden under layers and layers of confusion and pain.

“How are you here?” Anakin asked; the calm in his tone struck him. The Master smiled.

“Does it matter?” It did not. All it mattered was that he was. “Go find your son, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded and started walking from the ship. He looked back but his Master was no longer there. He had a feeling, though, that they would meet again.

Padmé was already starting up the ramp as he left. She stopped as she saw him. The look on her face, the way her eyebrows were furrowed; the pain that lingered in her eyes. He had not seen her in such a way for so long. Since the day he had finally lost the remnants of himself.

Anakin held his wife close to him; she buried her head in his chest. “What happened?” She asked, and he felt the warmth of her breath against him.

“Obi-Wan died saving Luke.” He whispered and he did feel himself grieving. But not in the way he had mourned before when his mother died or when he was sure Padmé had joined the Force. It was a pain that mixed with the happy memories of his Master, subdued and understanding. It was the knowledge that all would be right in the Galaxy and that his Master had left the most beautiful imprint on it; that would reflect upon it for millennia to come.

He understood at last what he had been told by Yoda, so many years ago. Only days before his downfall: _Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is. Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose._

But there was something that Yoda did not understand. To let go was not to not love. To let go was to love beyond one’s selfish needs. To let go was the ultimate sacrifice; the fateful act of courage for those who stayed behind.

To let go was hope of one day meeting again; a stifling of one’s own pain in favor of the happiness of others, an exaltation of the memory and legacy of those who passed on into the Force.

To let go was the utmost act of love; the unconditional kind, the brave kind.

Anakin Skywalker knew he was Obi-Wan’s legacy and he was determined to honor it, even if he could never completely erased the way he had tarnished is beloved memory. But he would do his best.

“They took Luke and Ahsoka.” He told his wife. Somehow he knew his apprentice wasn’t dead. He reached out with the Force and felt her presence. It was faint, but it was there.

It was odd now, reaching into the Force. It had been fading over the years, as his body degraded more and more, and he lost more parts of himself. But now, it was back almost to its original intensity. The rawness of it had returned, that blinding wildness, its deafening roar ringed in his hears. It was as if his body was whole once more, even though he continued crippled.

Padmé pulled back and looked at him, straight into his eyes; like she had the day she found him and reached her hand to pull him from his pit of darkness. “What are we going to do?”

Anakin took her face between his hands. “I’m going to get them back and I’m going to end this once and for all.”

She looked at him and her tears ceased, she studied her husband’s face carefully, as if she was seeing him for the first time. “You’re back, aren’t you? There’s something in your eyes, a brightness that wasn’t there before.”

Anakin smiled at her but said nothing.

“You think you can do this?” She asked, as a last thread of doubt crossed her mind.

“I have hope.” He answered quietly. Padmé put her hands around her husband’s neck and reached up. She placed a soft kiss on his lips. It had been so long since he had felt the warmth of her lips. A shiver went down his spine and his heart stopped for just one moment.

Her embrace was where he had always belonged.

As soon as they separated, the _Home One_ took a small bump. They had come out of hyperspace. Anakin knew they were upon the Death Star.

Alarms began blaring around them as they stood on that ramp.

“Battle stations. Battle stations.” He heard Admiral Ackbar’s voice coming from the loudspeakers. “May the Force be with you all, brave soldiers of democracy.”

“I have to go.” Anakin whispered and Padmé just nodded, reluctantly stepping away from him.

Without looking back, Anakin ran towards his starfighter and took off, among all the dozens of X-wings that surrounded him.

As they safely departed from _Home One_ , Anakin thought back to his days fighting the meaningless Clone Wars, a lifetime ago.

“This is Red Leader. Report.” He spoke. And then he heard them.

“Red One, standing-by.”

“Red Two, standing-by.”

One by one, they reported. “Stay in attack formation. But do not engage. I need to take a look. Let’s go around this thing.”

“Yes, Master Skywalker.” One of the boys said. And they circled it, like a predator circles prey.

Anakin would usually feel excited or frightful on a situation such as this. But not this time. He felt calm, focused. He had a purpose. He looked over to the crater and he saw the unmistakable laser powering up the kyber crystals inside. He knew it would take about fifteen minutes, but they had to take it down before it was complete.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin spoke once more. “This is Red Leader. _Home One,_ the Death Star is powering up weapons systems.”

“We know Red Leader.” Ackbar’s voice spoke in his ear. “All Squadrons, fifteen minutes and counting.”

He flew closer and examined the large hangars that were scattered across the equator. A barrage of TIE fighters took off after them. Among them, a small shuttle made its departure.

“Hold on.” Anakin said to his men. He traced the shuttle’s path as it moved away from the battle. He reached out and he sensed them inside. Luke and Ahsoka. It then disappeared entering light speed.

He stretched his senses once more towards the Death Star, just to make sure. They weren’t there.

He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. “This is Red Leader. Okay boys, attack speed. Let’s go get them. Weapons free. The Death Star is clear. May the Force be with you.” He even managed a smile as they turned their formation into the TIE fighters that were quickly approaching.

He heard Admiral Ackbar’s voice one more. “You heard Master Skywalker. The Jedi are cleared from the Death Star. Gold Leader, make your approach.”

“God Leader, powering up targeting computer and approaching.” Anakin heard the communication and as he did, a very familiar star destroyer came out of hyperspace. _The Executor._ Darth Vader’s own flagship.

Anakin Skywalker knew Sidious was trying to taunt him. But Sidious didn’t know that he had no such effect on him. Not anymore.

More squadrons of TIE fighters flew off the hangar of _The Executor,_ and were heading directly towards the Squadron that was attempting to shoot into the exhaust port _._

“This is Red Leader. We need to cover Gold Squadron’s back.” As if in a perfectly choreographed move, the entire squadron turned to pursuit the imperial ships that were trailing the Gold Squadron.

Shooting them down.

But they failed. One tried to hit the exhaust port and missed. Two, three. Some were taken down and Anakin felt their passing through the Force and silently wished they would live there peacefully forever.

They eventually were able to shoot down the imperials who were chasing the Gold Squadron. But now they had them on their tail.

“Three minutes and counting.” Ackbar’s voice spoke.

They were running out of time.

“This is Red Leader. I’m going in.”

“We’ll cover you, Red Leader. We’re concentrating fire on the Star Destroyer.”

Anakin flew into the crack. He could feel the TIE fighters shooting down his men behind him, every death meant a light being extinguished in the Force. He couldn’t help but feel it.

But he had a job to do.

“Two minutes and counting. Anakin, your computer isn’t turned on.” Said the voice from the _Home One._

“I don’t need it.”

He didn’t. He approached the exhaust vent. Anakin closed his eyes, he felt the obstacles around him, he sensed the exhaust vent, letting the Force flow through and around him and into the machine below him. He waited.”

“One minute and counting. Anakin!” Then the countdown commenced. He waited.

When the clock turned to thirty two seconds the Force shouted. They weren’t words. But a feeling. Just a feeling.

He pressed the button and his torpedo flew off.

“The torpedo’s in. Clear, clear!” He yelled in the communication system. And all the rebels flew away as the countdown continued ringing in their ears.

And despite not seeing it; he felt it behind him. The gigantic ring of fire of the explosion of the Death Star; releasing its energy around them. The Force screamed of the dead, but rejoiced at the spared on the planet below and on many more to come.

He heard screams of celebration in his ear and allowed himself a grin.

“That was a hell of a shot, Red Leader.” Admiral Ackbar’s voice spoke louder. “Mission accomplished boys. Come back home.”

He watched as _The Executor_ finally collapsed into itself under the fire of the entire Rebel fleet, and as the TIE fighters finally retreated. He saw his men pass by him on their way home, as he slowed down, not because he wished to see anything, but because he was plotting a new course on his navicomputer.

Anakin’s mission wasn’t accomplished yet.

He changed the channel on his communication system and made a private transmission to _Home One._ He heard Admiral Ackbar’s voice on the other side.

“This is _Home One.”_

Anakin took a deep breath before speaking. “Admiral. I’m going to find Luke and Ahsoka. I’m plotting a course to the Imperial City.”

It was another voice that responded to him. “Anakin,” said Padmé, “you can’t go there. He’ll kill you.”

Anakin Skywalker smiled sadly, remembering who he had once been. “We both know he will not.”

Padmé said nothing, he felt her distress wash over him through the Force, despite the distance that separated them. “Padmé?” He asked to confirm she was still listening.

“If I don’t return… I want you to know that – “ he hesitated, uncertain of what to say, “ – That I am sorry and that I love you. Tell Leia that I love her too.”

“I love you too, Anakin.” He heard her tear stricken voice and smiled, before turning off his communications.

“It’s just you and I now, buddy.” He told Artoo, who was safely installed into his socket. The droid whistled. He didn’t need to read the words on the screen to know that he said “As always.”

He pulled the lever and sat back in silence. The time had come to end the rule of the Sith and fulfill the prophecy that had haunted him his entire life.

But this time, he was not afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, It's almost ending! Expect the final chapters during the weekend. :)


	20. There Is No Death

Anakin Skywalker had lived through many things in his life, enough for one hundred lifetimes of a common man.

He had started his life as a slave on a desert planet, mistreated daily by his masters, yet was loved by an adoring mother.

Somehow, through the will of the Force, he had been given the opportunity to travel the Galaxy and see the stars. He saw so many of them; not all like he had wished. But so, so many.

He had seen worlds in every color, he had seen sunrises and sunsets so different and yet so similar. He had seen moons of all sizes rising up through the night sky from the far away horizons.

He had been in places where one sun rose after the other set, places that had no night.

Anakin saw places where there was no day, because the sun had been constantly covered by a moon in a never-ending eclipse.

He became a Jedi Knight. He had helped so many people. He had saved children from dying, he had trained villages of farmers to stand up for themselves, he had freed slaves, he had stopped wars from happening and saved entire planets from certain doom.

He became a husband. He had made love to his beautiful wife, he had caressed her cheek and kissed her temples, he held her as she cried and laughed when she laughed, he had created life with her.

His life had been so incredible and so overwhelmingly significant, that the fear of losing all that he had accomplished had slowly crept in and taken a hold of all of him; and only now he realized that he had everything he ever wanted.

All of Anakin Skywalker’s dreams had come true. He saw the Galaxy, he became a Jedi, he had a family who loved him.

How many people in the Galaxy could say that all their dreams came true? Possibly only a handful among all its immensity. And he had been one of them, one of the lucky few who had seen his life before him shape according to his every whim.

Then, a little manipulation nudged his fear. Anakin was Anakin no more. He became a Sith and he destroyed it all. In his want for more, in his fear of loss he had shattered his dreams and his accomplishments.

He allowed the Dark Side to invade him and wreck everything in its wake.

He stopped being able to see the stars with his own eyes; he destroyed the Order that raised him and he separated his family, almost killing them all.

He stopped saving worlds in favor of destroying them; he stopped helping children and instead slaughtered them. He had believed his entire family to be dead and he had lived blinded by the darkness for too long.

And there was no point denying that it had been him. It was all him. It was another part of him that had been ready to burst at any moment, but still him.

Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were just two sides of the same coin.

And even so, the Force had found it in it to give it all back to him; to forgive him for his misgivings, to bring him back to his own self. To help him destroy the side of him that was broken; to fill him up with its grace and light again.

As his hands were being secured by shackles as soon as he left his ship on the hangar of the Emperor’s Palace, he reminded himself he was not a slave anymore.

Not a slave to Gardulla. Not a slave to Watto. Not a slave to Sidious.

Anakin Skywalker, bound and unarmed as he was, had never been freer.

He wondered when it had all started. When he left Tatooine, leaving his mother behind? When the Jedi refused to train him, only to go back on their decision because his Master would not take no for an answer. When his mother died? When he slaughtered that village of Tusken Raiders? When he married Padmé?

So many things had gone wrong. So many things had happened like they weren’t supposed to happen.

But it all led him to this place; to the moment that he was living right then. All of his bad decisions; all of his selfishness and his feelings of powerlessness; but all of his goodness too and all of his love.

His fear had brought him here.

His fear had finally abandoned him.

Stoically he received a blow to the stomach from a stormtrooper.

“Traitor!” He called him. He was a traitor; but a traitor to a different cause. He had betrayed not the Empire, but the Force who had created him for a single task.

Perhaps his existence was merely that; maybe he was just a tool to accomplish a single purpose.

Maybe it was more.

It did not matter. Only one thing did: to follow the will of the Force; whatever it might be.

The armored fist met his jaw. It hurt. But that pain also did not matter and he didn’t fight it. Nothing would deter him from what he had to do.

Everyone knew that when Anakin Skywalker had a mission, he would see it through. Whether it be it as a Jedi or as a Sith or as neither.

Fifteen men had led him up the stairs to the Palace. It was the old Jedi Temple; the place where he had grown up, the place where his Master held him after a nightmare, where he had put a cold cloth on his forehead when he had a fever, where he taught him how to wield a lightsaber and how to move an object with the Force.

They had laughed in there. And they had cried. They had recovered from battles and injuries; they had consoled each other like brothers in arms and in heart.

And then he had destroyed the place, like he had done to everything else.

It would only be fitting that he would do away with the Sith in the same place where he had ruined the Jedi. It was actually quite ironic. He was sure that, if it wasn’t so sad, even Obi-Wan would have laughed at the joke.

When he wasn’t taken immediately to the Emperor and was locked in a cell the Force said patience. And patient he was.

With his mechanical hands bound in front of him and long disposed of both his lightsabers, he knelt on the dirty floor and closed his eyes, reaching to the Force; and he waited there, amongst all its light and beauty, ignoring the stench of the Dark Side that was polluting that once sacred place, and knowing it would give him the strength to do what he must, at last.

He opened his eyes and rose to his feet even before the door slid open.

He took another punch to the stomach, but did not allow himself to fall down, steadying his mechanical feet firmly on the ground.

Two stormtroopers held his arms and dragged him along, the rest covered their rears and front.

Anakin almost felt like laughing. He wouldn’t be there if he had wished to run.

Silently they guided him through the Palace’s walls. Anakin looked around him. He had been there so many times, before and after his transformation. There was nothing of the Temple he once knew. It was now dark and unwelcoming. But, what he hadn’t seen in so many years, were the remnants of light that still lingered, memories of fallen Jedi who had brightened those halls like drops of shining suns.

They passed a corner and he recognized a place where he once had seen a group of younglings no more than five years old playing with the training lightsabers they had surely snatched from the training rooms.

He looked at a wall where he had once found two young Padawans sharing what was probably their first real kiss, only to blush immensely at the sight of him and stand at attention, pretending that nothing had happened.

The stormtroopers took him up a flight of stairs and he saw the place where, once, Obi-Wan had caught him after missing one of his lessons. He had crossed his arms and stomped his foot, made a very fake annoyed look. But as he showed him the droid parts he had felt through the Force that his Master really wanted to smile.

So many more memories came rushing through his mind. There was a flicker of light in every corner where hundreds of thousands of Jedi had lived for millennia. That couldn’t just be smothered; every single surface of that building had been bathed in light at one point and it only took a ray of sunshine to crush the night completely.

Anakin Skywalker smiled and felt at peace, despite knowing that those could prove to be his final moments.

They reached a familiar door. It had once been the Council Room. Anakin had stood there so many times, often uncomfortably, often angry. He remembered Ahsoka’s last day; how he had hated the Council then.

He couldn’t help but recall that, on the very path where he stood, his Master asked him to spy on the Chancellor. He had felt so offended, but couldn’t deny, now, that there was wisdom behind the request.

But he also reminisced on the day he knelt before his Master and he cut his Padawan braid and the moment when he stood in the corner of the room and watched proudly as Obi-Wan, still a young man, received the rank of Master.

Why did it all seem so bad, at some point?

The door opened without a sound and one of the stormtroopers gave him a slight push inside. Anakin needed no such encouragement. He walked in slowly, passing by the two imperial guards at the door. He felt them leave behind him and then the door closed on his back.

The room was silent and dark, only illuminated by the lights that shone in from the buzzing capital city.

The council chairs were long gone, replaced by a black stone throne. It stood on an equally black raised podium, with six steps. The Emperor sat there in his dark robes with his face hidden by the hood, only the tip of his nose and his mouth were visible; yellowed teeth peeked through his humorless sneer.

Anakin looked across the room before reaching the front of the throne. He saw Luke and Ahsoka, bound and kneeling in the corner to the right side of the Emperor.

His son shot his head up at his father’s arrival; but he did not look glad to see him. He felt a flash of anger reach him through the Force, reverberating as his son’s gaze followed him.

He knew the truth, discovered it in the worst possible way, like Anakin feared it would happen. Sidious had begun his poisoning.

But the Sith would not leave that room alive.

Ahsoka had probably been beaten; she seemed to have no strength to raise her head. But her life still pulsated strongly in the Force.

He stood before the throne and looked up at the Sith. The Dark Side, he thought, was like a bad smell. If one lives with it for too long, one tends to get used to the stench.

But Anakin was no longer used to the Dark Side, not in the way it emanated from his former Master. It reeked of putrefaction and hate. And he wondered, for a moment, when had that man become so? Had he ever been a happy child? Had he ever loved anyone?

Probably not. Anakin pitied him. For a man with such hunger for power he had no idea what it was, immersed as he was in the Dark Side. He knew not of the power of seeing with clarity, of loving with all one’s heart. He knew not of the power of the light; its courage and determination. Its justice and righteousness.

He would never know.

Anakin ignored the Darkness and held his head high, setting his gaze on the man and seeing both his lightsabers on the armrest of the chair, the Emperor’s filthy hand patting them with a gentleness that contrasted with all of his being.

The silence weighed down the already thick air of the room.

“Will you not kneel before your Master, Lord Vader?” The Sith said, shattering the quietness.

The Chosen One gave the old man a crooked smile. “You are not my Master. My Master’s name was Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The Emperor laughed. “Well, then your Master is _dead_!” He spat the last word, amused.

But Anakin only smiled as he remembered his Master, glimmering blue, with a peaceful and hopeful look on his eyes. “Have you not heard? There is no death, there is the Force.”

Darth Sidious released a sickening low snarl. “Look at you. What you were and what you have become. You were the man who inspired fear in millions; the man whose power destroyed entire cities. Now you are weak. Now you are powerless. Where is the anger that brought you to me? The hate that made you invincible? Tell me Darth Vader.”

“My name is Anakin Skywalker. And my only weakness was to give in to you and let myself be enslaved by you. But no more, Sith. No more.”

“You denounce me, my apprentice, and yet,” the Sith Master said, “You still carry the weapon you used to do my bidding.” He carefully patted the lightsabers.

Anakin said nothing. He pulled his mechanical wrists inside of his bounds and broke them with his mechanical strength and the aid of the Force; they fell onto the floor. The Sith did not seem surprised. He reached out his hand and called both lightsabers to him, making them fly in his direction, and Sidious made no move to stop him. Anakin caught them in both his hands.

His blue lightsaber he clasped to his belt. The crimson one he held on his open gloved palm.

Anakin closed his eyes for a moment and it levitated slightly, and then, before him, the parts that composed it began separating, red offending crystal in the middle, it circled around itself, exposed. He closed his fist and the metallic components smashed under the pressure of the Force. The crystal fell on the ground at his feet. Anakin kicked it to the side and looked again at his former Master.

His mouth was not smiling, but his eyes were.

Sidious released an exasperated sigh. “You’ve always been a foolish boy. Take your place back at my side, my Apprentice, or I shall have to consider a more suitable replacement.”

“He will never join you Sidious. Nor will I.” Anakin knew the Sith wished to replace Darth Vader with Luke. Such raw, untainted power was too good for Sidious to pass on. Greed would be his undoing.

Darth Sidious stood and began descending the stairs from his throne, his arm reached to his right side and beckoned Anakin’s son to come to him. “Come here, my boy.” His tone reminded him of when he was young, of the time when he used Anakin’s own greed and fear to make him believe that he was loved and give him the acceptance he so longed for.

They were nothing but lies.

Luke stood and walked towards the Emperor on steady feet. His gaze never left his father. The boy stopped next to him, facing Anakin.

“Do you see now, Luke? Do you believe me now? He deceived you, Luke.” The Sith spoke in that beguiling tone he used when he wanted something for himself. Many moons ago, Anakin had loved it. Now, he merely shuddered at the warnings of deceit that the Force was sending him. 

“Liar!” The boy barked at his father. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Did he hurt you?” Was all the father asked.

“Answer me!” Luke’s cheeks burned red as he screamed. A wave of anger was sent through the Force, almost blinding Anakin. But the young Jedi wished for no answer. Not really. “You all lied to me! You, mother, even… even my Master.” A flash of pain crossed his features. And a greedy grin settled on the half hidden face of the Sith.

“Luke…” Anakin started, softly. But was interrupted again.

“And now he’s dead! And all of you lied to me!” Tears began running down his face, tears of pain and anger.

Anakin begged the Force. _Don’t let him fall into darkness. Please. Please._

He would have offered him a phrase of wisdom; but it wouldn’t work. The Jedi had done that for him in his youth and it led to nothing but more anger and frustration. So he sighed, thinking carefully of his next words. “You’re right. We lied. It was wrong.” He offered calmly and he knew his tone was upsetting him even further. But anything he said would have the same effect. So Anakin stretched out his hand. “I just want to take you home, Luke. Please, come home.”

Young Skywalker let out an unamused chuckled that mingled in between breathless sobs. It was heartbreaking. “With you? You’re a monster! All I ever wanted was to be like you! They all said you were the greatest Jedi who ever lived; the greatest warrior this Galaxy had ever seen. But you’re just a monster and a traitor!”

Anakin’s heart shuttered a little more, but he ignored it. What he felt was of no importance, so, with a deep breath, he released his pain into the Force, reaching out to it to ask for strength to save his son. “I don’t want you to be like me, Luke. I want you to be better.”

Palpatine’s lust for power could hardly be subdued. He cackled as he opened up his arms. “Such anger, such hate! He lied to you. He is a nothing but a killer! Did you know he killed younglings in this very room? Take your weapon and strike him down, Luke. Rid the Galaxy of him and you will be invincible! You will be ten times de man your father ever was. Better. Much better than him. Stronger!”

Anakin watched as a lightsaber flew across the room, from a hidden corner and into his son’s hands. He grabbed it tightly and flashed green, giving the room a sapphire tint that reflected from the black and perfectly polished marble walls.

“He’s lying, Luke!” He said. “There is power in the Dark Side, but it will bring you nothing but sorrow, son.” Luke stepped towards his father, lightsaber secured tightly in between the fingers of both his hands.

Anakin stepped back and held both his hands in front of him. “I will not fight you Luke.”

“Why not?” The boy cried out. The Emperor laughed. “Why not kill me? How many has it been, _father?”_

“I don’t know, Luke. Unfortunately, too many too count.” He said as he kept stepping away from his son; they would soon be at the wall and there would be no escape. “At the Emperor’s bidding.” He completed. “But that’s not who I am now. And it’s not who you are. You’re better than this. You don’t need to become better than me. You already are. Give me your lightsaber Luke.” He put his hand out again.

“He’s lying, Luke. There is no coming back from the Dark Side. Take your father’s place beside me. You will know the true power of the Force. Together, we can bring peace to the Empire.” The Sith’s voice was poison itself, the kind that festers and kills slowly.

“Was all of it a lie?” His hands on the lightsaber faltered and Anakin saw it.

He shook his head. “No, it was all real, Luke. I love you, your mother loves you. Obi-Wan loved you. He still does. Please son, please. Don’t let him break you, like he broke me. Please.” Anakin pleaded, sending waves of love and calm through the Force and took a step forward as he sensed Luke’s fingers loosening further on the saber’s hilt. He outstretched his hand further.

“You do?” The boy asked, meekly.

“With all my heart. More than anything.”

“And you won’t lie to me again?” The tears kept running from his cheeks. He was just a boy.

“I promise.” Anakin said and he heard the hiss of the lightsaber disengaging and its warm metal resting heavily on his palm. He grabbed it before his son let go and pulled him in his embrace.

“I need you to get Ahsoka and run.” He whispered in his hear, his heart was beating fast in his chest. Then the Force sent him a cold warning of danger and he pushed Luke away, almost throwing him across the room. The lightsaber remained in the boy’s hand; he might need it. And the blue lightning hit him square on the chest. With no time to defend himself, it threw him across the room and into the stone wall; his head banged hard onto it, blinding and deafening him momentarily.

He tried to get up, but it was of no use. His body was not responding. He shivered as he felt his hot, sticky blood trickling down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his tunic.

Unable to function, he felt the pain of the lightning again. This had not been the first time he had been struck by it. As Darth Vader he had endured it many times, during his Master’s rages. It was an odd feeling of heat and cold that ran through his whole body, a rancid smell of the Dark Side stuck to it. It took one’s breath away as it travelled through the body and into the organs, faltering their functioning.

“You fools!” he heard the Sith, as if he was at the end of a tunnel, so far away.

“Now you will both die!” And he heard another scream, not his. A young one. His son’s voice in agony; his pain was echoing across the screaming Force.

And he heard his Master’s voice again.

_Stand up, Anakin._

Or maybe it was his own, mirroring Obi-Wan’s words.

_Stand up, Anakin._

“Father! Help!” Anakin’s eyes finally fluttered open and he saw him; Luke, being struck by that foul blue lightning that was sucking the life out of him.

“Stand up, Anakin!” he told himself. And his mechanical legs obeyed at last, despite the dizziness. He breathed in and let the Force flow through him; all its light engulfing him, calming him, pushing him through.

The Emperor gave the boy some respite to let out a crazed laugh. And Anakin leapt between the two.

 _Again!_ The Force warned. This time, he was not unprepared. The lightning came and, instinctively Anakin stretched out his hands, the Force travelled through the metal of his limbs and into his fingertips. The lightening stopped and concentrated into a dancing sphere of light between his hands. The Force flowed through it, killing the darkness. The light brightened even further.

“Run!” he yelled at his son as he threw the lightning back at its owner. Sidious startled and leapt away from it.

Skywalker took in his bearings as he felt Luke kneeling next to Ahsoka behind him. He sent his right hand towards the throne. The upper half broke loose and the Force shoved it against the Emperor who was only half able to escape the attack, falling onto the ground.

He felt his back now completely soaked in the warm, thick liquid that was coming out of his head and Anakin knew he didn’t have much time before his body finally betrayed him.

The Sith recovered quickly and threw his hands in the air. The glass behind him shattered into a million pieces and suddenly Anakin felt them coming towards him. He raised his metal arms to shield his face from the blow; but the Force push that came with it was too strong and Skywalker recoiled. But he did not fall.

He felt the floor slippery under his feet.

_Was he bleeding that much?_

He was. He felt himself weakening and his body screaming for him to pass out. Only the Force was keeping him awake; nudging for him to go on, to not give up.

“Master!” He heard a familiar voice behind him. Ahsoka was finally up on her feet.

“Go!” he said, as he retrieved his lightsaber from his belt and jumped toward his former the Lord of the Sith. Their blades crossed in insanely fast strokes. Sidous’ were mad and filled with rage. Anakin’s more subtle and calculated, but not weaker. Never weaker.

They parried as equals. Light against Dark. The lights, hum and clash of their blades filled the room.

But Anakin was tired, injured body faltering, and he felt the room spinning around him. His shoulder weakened for just a moment. His left hand was suddenly separated from his arm. The wiring sparked and hissed and the pain sensors screamed and screamed.

He fell, expecting another blow. But none came. He sensed the Emperor leap over him and just as Luke was reaching the door, he struck him again, blocking his exit and making him fall just before he reached the door.

Ahsoka fell at his side. He could see her screaming, her features laced with pain and powerlessness, but the sound was muffled by Sidious’ insane laughter and the furious hissing of the lightning.

Anakin Skywalker smiled despite everything He always knew that greed would be the Sith’s downfall. He would not relent and let any of them escape. That was his mistake: to think he could have it all.

He knew what to do.

Anakin called his fallen lightsaber to his remaining hand and moved behind Darth Sidious. He was so busy laughing he didn’t even sense him. From behind he put his left arm around the Sith’s neck and, suddenly, the old man knew what was happening to him.

His eyes widened as Anakin, taking the lightning from the Sith’s body into him without flinching and ignored the immense pain it was causing him, put his lightsaber hilt at an angle against Palpatine’s cloaked back and ignited it, piercing him right through his blackened heart.

“No more.” Anakin whispered in his ear as he did it and the last thing he felt from him was surprise. Sidious had never seen it coming.

The Emperor fell down in a heap and took his last breath; his mouth agape from his astonishment. He really did think he was invincible.

Suddenly the Force around him rejoiced and brightened. The shroud of the Dark Side had been lifted and everything seemed so clear.

Anakin Skywalker’s mission had finally been accomplished. He smiled at the sight of his son, rising from the floor and coming to him.

“Master.” Ahsoka said.

“Hey Snips.” He whispered, feeling suddenly so incredibly lightheaded. He felt his lightsaber slip from his hand and hit the ground, rolling away with a dull sound. But he couldn’t find it in him to reach for it.

“We need to go, this place will be filled with stormtroopers soon.” It was so good to hear her voice again.

“You go. I just.. I need to rest for a little bit.” Anakin felt his words slurring. He couldn’t think.

He fell to his hands and knees; his strength was leaving him.

Anakin was just so tired.

“Father!” His son’s voice ringed in his ear and he felt his warmth as he knelt next to him. He was really cold; very, very cold.

It was an apt place to die. He remembered the lives of the children he took as he was standing in the exact same place where he now was kneeling. “They forgave me.” He mumbled with the smile he could manage, but not sure if what he said was even audible. He remembered that beautiful song that he heard when the light rescued him. He wished he could hear it again.

Anakin tried to lift his head to look at his son and his Padawan one last time, but instead he fell on his back. He could see both of their grief-stricken faces over him. They were moving their mouths but he could not understand what they were saying; all the sounds were muffled by the sound of the Force. It was like a stream of clear water, running furiously against the rocks. Just so beautiful; he felt a tear run down his cheek.

He took in the Force around him; now free of the Dark Side’s clutches it danced in white beautiful waves. It rolled around him like a warm blanket, cradling him in its softness. He saw his Master behind Ahsoka and Luke. He had a smile on his face; he looked happy.

Anakin smiled too and he opened his mouth to speak. “I love you both.” That’s what he meant to say, but he wasn’t really sure it had come out. He thought he’d join Obi-Wan: the place where he was seemed so pleasant and inviting, he was sure he’d like it there.

He closed his eyes to let go but felt himself being hoisted upwards; a stab of pain ran through his body and he thought he let out a scream.

Suddenly, it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost over. I can hardly believe it! Stay tuned for the Epilogue! :)


	21. Epilogue: It Will Never Truly End

Anakin Skywalker. The Jedi Knight.

Anakin Skywalker. The Lord of the Sith.

Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One.

How can one can be so many things during the course his life and still reach a crossroads and benothing, or all, or something else entirely?

Who was Anakin Skywalker?

That was a question yet to be answered.

But what Anakin Skywalker was, was alive.

He hadn't thought he would be. He'd entered that fight expecting to perish with his foe. But that would just be too easy, wouldn't it? It would have been easy to reach that culmination point and do what he was supposed to do and just join the Force, as if it had no need for him anymore.

But apparently, it had. What that need was he was yet to discover.

Now, as he meditated, engulfed in the Force and listening to the quiet waters of the lake on Varykino, he knew there was still a path to be chosen; a road to walk through. But which one he did not know.

Suddenly Anakin found himself without the burden of destroying the Sith. Finally he sensed the Force around him and within him perfectly in balance, like it was supposed to be; an explosion of light and clarity.

But what it meant as well was that, at last, his destiny was his own.

He opened his eyes and allowed the sun to warm his skin. He breathed in the soothing spring air and he watched along the green plains of Naboo. His children were there, lying on the grass, getting to know each other as if they had an unbreakable connection.

They laughed. And what a beautiful sound it was. They were happy and they were free; their lives so filled with possibilities.

Anakin had never before experienced the Force without the shroud of the Dark Side hanging over it. It used to be blurry and the future ambiguous. Now the future of his children was clear; well, not their exact future. But all of the paths that could possibly be laid before them; all of the decisions they could come to make. But the future was always in motion. Every step, every word, every deed was capable of creating a new set of events to unfurl.

That was the beauty of life; its uncertainty, every surprise it brought. And that was the power of the Force: liberty, free-will. That was the balance. Not being pulled and prodded to the whims of one man, as it had been so long by the Sith. Balance was to allow it to freely flow and manifest in every choice of every being in the Galaxy.

Anakin smiled. For some time he had been able to, truly. He would never forget his past; his very future depended on it. But somehow, even if limited by the things he had done, he could feel some semblance of happiness and peace; even if he hadn't deserved it.

His musings were interrupted by the soft footsteps of Padmé approaching. Like he had heard so many times over the years, the Force fluttered around her, caressing her with its light. She was not able to feel it, but he sensed it every time that she walked into a room.

Yet, even though she had been happier than he had ever known her to be, on that day, something troubled her.

She settled next to him silently and a smile formed on her lips as she watched their children. "They're so beautiful, aren't they?"

Anakin nodded but said nothing. The weight of that moment, however, did not escape him. He knew what disturbed her as they stood on the same balcony where they had gotten married so many years before. It would always remain one of his most treasured memories. How would it have been if he had forgotten it completely? He didn't care to think about it, so he dismissed the offending thought.

"I love you, Anakin." Padmé said, as she averted her gaze towards him. The Force around her told him that she had yet to finish speaking. He took her hand into his and squeezed it gently, encouraging her to continue, even though he already knew what she wanted to say. "But," Padmé offered, after a long pause, "I don't think I can do this."

Anakin smiled and took his wife's hand to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on them. He lingered, aware it would be the last one.

How would she after all that had happened? By becoming Darth Vader, Anakin destroyed everything Padmé ever held dear. He took away the love of her life, her children, the Republic and, nearly, her life.

No love would survive it in spite of how clear the Force had become; no balance could erase those memories. Regardless of how much Anakin had changed, he knew it was over the day he became Sith. Redemption was his but it did not mean his actions had been forgotten; nor could they be.

They had to be remembered and bore into the mind of Jedi to come as a cautionary tale of someone who had fallen into darkness and fought his way back into the light, but had lost so much along the way.

Those memories would forever linger in his mind and forever trouble Padmé. She would never forget the man she loved hold her neck with his invisible grip; she would never forget he had killed children and his brothers and sisters; she would never forget that she feared him so that she had given her children away at birth.

And neither would Anakin. He was yet to fully forgive himself; how would she ever do it?

"I know." He finally replied, looking into her eyes. The Force spoke to him and he looked at their children in the distance. "We have done what we were meant to do. Now you are free, Padmé." They had. When he dove into the Force and peeked into their futures and something was perfectly clear. They were the future of the Jedi, they were born to bring light into the Galaxy and spread it across every corner of it, regardless of the paths they chose to take.

It hadn't happened yet and Anakin was so proud of them already.

She released a humorless chuckle; almost pained. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Free? How can I be free if I know I will forever love the man that I cannot fathom being with?"

"By letting go." He replied softly. "And by knowing that our love, flawed as it was, not only created our children, but was strong enough to bring me back from the darkness. You, Padmé Amidala, are the strongest woman I know; and that is why I have loved you since I was a little boy and will love you until my dying breath. But our paths, although destined to cross, were never destined to merge. So you will be happy, and I will do what you have asked me that day on Mustafar: I will make amends for what I've done and devote my life to it."

Anakin caressed his wife's cheek one last time and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "How?" she asked.

He smiled. "Only the Force knows."

* * *

There was something Anakin Skywalker had to do. A difficult task indeed, painful, but it could not be delayed.

During the weeks of recuperation from the grave injuries he had suffered during the course of his battle with the Dark Side, his Master had visited him from the netherworld of the Force and had shown him the first step to the discovery of his new path; a path the Force, in all its wisdom, had decided to keep a mystery.

Perhaps, it was better this way. Knowing what he was meant to do during all his life had become, at some point, a burden far too heavy to bear.

Not knowing was liberating. Not knowing was to have a choice.

And this time, Anakin knew, he would make the right one, for now the Force was with him and they had become a single entity, perfectly attuned, moving together in perfect unison.

Now, at long last, Anakin knew what it meant to be the child of the Force. It was to _be_ the Force, to succumb to its will, to allow it to guide him at every step. To be the child of the Force was to be at peace.

And Anakin left Naboo without a promise of return; for how could he if he knew not what the will of the Force was?

During his trip he was unsettled; not afraid, but sorrowful. The person he was about to seek might very well be the one he had hurt the most.

The Force would not show him the outcome of that meeting and Anakin knew that, after all he had done, there was the possibility of not leaving that planet alive. If it came to that he would accept his ending. If it didn't he would accept it as well.

Whatever happened in that place would be the will of the Force.

Skywalker landed his ship on one of the few clearings the swamp planet had to offer. As soon as his boots hit the ground he immediately felt them sinking slightly in the humid dirt.

The Force felt odd there, plagued by the Dark Side. It was unfortunately a familiar natural conduit to it, just like Mustafar had been. And, despite everything, it made a shiver run down his spine.

It was a good hiding place however. And Anakin was not surprised Yoda had elected Dagobah for his exile.

He reached out with the Force, searching for the old Grandmaster. His presence was fading, but it was there. It stood out among all the other life in that place. And such life there was. There were critters of thousands or even millions of different species. They roamed freely in that beacon of life so contrasting with the energy of the Dark Side that emanated from the planet itself; unbothered and untouched by it.

Anakin zoned in the spot of light that the Force showed him and began his walk. It would prove to be a long one that dragged itself through the night. When he stopped to rest he could hear the nature surrounding him; the tree leaves bellowing against the wind; the tiny night insects chirping, the occasional small lizards sneaked under his legs. All of their lives flowed perfectly through the Force, and Anakin breathed it in, for he had never once been in a place so devoid of interference from sentient life; so pure and tainted at the same time.

The night air became cold and Anakin could feel his cheeks and nose reddening. He pulled his cloak closer around himself and tried to rest, despite the uncertainty of his encounter.

He could not however. It was too cold, it was hard to keep himself dry, there was so much life that the Force wouldn't stop swirling around him and his shame invaded his thoughts.

Yoda would surely never forgive him. Maybe he shouldn't, perhaps that was the wise thing to do.

Soon he felt that flicker of light approaching. Master Yoda had sensed his presence.

Anakin stood and turned around. A shuffle of a nearby shrub in the darkness came first and then the rhythmic sound of that familiar gimer stick, digging into in the wet dirt and sending a small splash of mud around every time it was lifted in between each of the aging steps of the longest surviving Jedi in existence.

His surroundings were completely darkened by the night. The only light there was bestowed by the moon that shone dimly in the night sky.

He was able to sense rather than see the old Master finally making his way towards him.

The green tint of a lightsaber finally lit Yoda's features. He looked tired and old, much older than he had the last time Anakin had seen him, almost sixteen years ago. His ragged robes gave him the appearance of a crazy hermit rather than that of a wise man.

Anakin thought for a moment that he would strike him with his weapon, and in earnest he didn't flinch and was at peace with any fate that would be cast upon him. But as he raised it above his head he knew that was not his intention. All he was doing was lighting the way.

And there they stood, facing each other in silence. For a moment Anakin was at a loss of what to do. But suddenly he felt himself fall to his knees and bow his head in shame.

There he was, before that wise old man, the one who had been a beacon to Jedi for generations, to the people he had managed to destroy. He could not stand above him and he felt so very small.

Anakin felt the words come out of his mouth, without him willing it; the Force acting through him and showing him his own feelings.

"I know there is no forgiveness for what I have done, Master. But I ask it of you nonetheless." He said, suddenly feeling tears he didn't know he had flowing down his cheeks silently.

Yoda regarded him silently and hummed. "A long time it took you, Young Skywalker, to come and find me. Come. Speak by the fire, we must. Too old for this cold, I am."

Anakin lifted his head and was surprised to see the old Master already walking away; the lightsaber suddenly turned off. He didn't wait for him and, in his astonishment, Anakin didn't stand right away.

Of all the reactions he could have possibly imagined, that was not the one he expected. He had anticipated some sort of outburst; at the very least an unkind word. He would think that the Master would have shown disappointment or even pain. But his expression was blank.

Finally he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his cloak and stood, taking long strides to where Yoda was. He walked behind him and kept his pace small. He was slower than he remembered; he was older and not just in years. Everything he had ever fought for had been taken from him by one of his own. By one of the very children that he helped raise.

Back then Anakin hadn't harbored much respect for the Master. He had rejected him, after all. Now he knew he probably should have rejected him. Perhaps the Jedi Order would still be. But there was no use in lingering in the past. What was done was done.

They finally reached a small precarious hut; a chain of smoke came out of the chimney and beyond the window candle light flickered softly.

Had this been the place where he had been living for so long? Robbed of his home, of his Temple and settled in a place where he did not even have power to warm him during the cold nights.

And it was his fault, Anakin knew it. His and Sidious'. At least it was the fault of the man he once had been and not the man he had finally become. But somehow, as much as he changed it would never cease to be him.

His infamy ran deeper.

They didn't speak a word as Anakin ducked his head to fit through the small door. He could not even stand up straight inside the small makeshift house. Yoda settled on a bench before the fire that was burning and heating the house and motioned with his gimer stick for young Skywalker to do the same.

Anakin could barely bear to look him in the eyes; so he settled for crossing his hands on his lap and stare at them instead.

"For eight hundred years a Jedi, I have been." The old Master started with a sigh. "And failed, I have."

"No Master, I have failed you. I have failed everyone." Anakin said, still unable to tear away his eyes from his hands.

"Yes. But blind I was to see it. Yet, returned to the light, have you not? Bring balance to the Force, you have? Yes, yes. Sense it I did. The Sith are no more. Your part you have done and now you must continue."

Yoda nodded pensively and stared at the fire.

Anakin took a deep breath and finally looked at the Jedi before speaking. "I will turn myself in and accept punishment for my actions, Master."

Yoda's hears perked back and his gimer stick hit his metallic shin. "Run, you will? Again? Hide yourself in a cell, you will? Like you hid yourself in that mask? Ignore the destruction you left behind, you will? No, no. To live with what you have done your punishment will be. And to mend what you have broken."

Skywalker released an unamused chuckle. "Obi-Wan told me once that I would never be a Jedi, that I was not worthy of it. And I am not. But my children need a Master. They need you, Master Yoda."

"Worthy you are not. But a Jedi you are. More than you have ever been. A Master your children have. Return I will not. Tired I am, my life coming to its end. One with the Force I will soon be. Ready I am, now that you have fulfilled your purpose." Yoda stood and walked towards the makeshift bed, lying under the covers.

Anakin followed him and knelt beside the Grandmaster. "I don't know if I can do this, Master. The Jedi still need you."

"No. The past I am." Yoda said, his eyes closing. "The future, your children are. With them, the Jedi will return."

Anakin knew he was dying; the Force was telling him so. Gathering around him slowly and coaxing him to join it; softly telling him he would finally be alright and Yoda, believing it, was finally letting go. It was as if he had been waiting for that moment; for the moment when he would be able to say his final piece, for the moment where he would give his last order to a Knight. And now that he had, he was allowing the Force to take him to live in it in peace. And he deserved it. The young Jedi arranged the covers over his Master and Yoda smiled. "Happy I am, that you have returned, young Anakin."

"I will do my best, Master. I promise. The Jedi will return." Yoda nodded and his eyes closed at last. Anakin felt the Force leaving his body, its bright light flickering away and merging with the world around it. The old Master took his last breath and a peaceful smile adorned his features. Suddenly, his very flesh joined the Force and it cried out with happiness around him as it welcomed one of its favorite children.

Anakin left Dagobah with a path. Something he had not had in so long. To make amends was to rebuild what he had broken.

The time had come for a new Jedi Order and, he hoped, for a better Jedi Order. One that would not shy away from love; one that would follow the will of the Force alone.

When he had arrived he did not know who he was; now he knew. He was Anakin Skywalker, Master of Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker; the last Jedi.

And the first Jedi.

* * *

"But I'm trying!" Leia said; her frustration was as clear in her voice as it was in the Force.

Master Skywalker let out a sigh. Teaching could be exasperating at times and Leia only joined him and Luke for brief periods. She had an inclination for politics he could not understand; but it was her path of choice. There was so much of her mother in her that he wouldn't even mind if she had refused to learn the ways of the Force at all.

He tried to hide the frustration in his voice. As much as she tried, the large rock would not budge and they needed it to so they could get into the old Temple.

"You can't try Leia. You must believe. There is no weight or size in the Force. Free your mind of all that is unnecessary and guide the Force to lift it. Again. And Luke, stop laughing at your sister." He scolded as he heard the boy snicker beside him.

They had both grown since they had begun their studies even though not even a year had passed.

Luke was an eager student and Leia, although filled with such raw power, had other interests and, in the beginning, had taken her time to warm up to her newly found father. But she eventually did and now, even though they weren't yet as close as he was with Luke, their connection had been growing steadily.

"But I can do it! We'd be inside already!" The boy protested.

Anakin shot him a look of disapproval. "I know you can and so can I. That's why neither of us are doing it. Patience, Luke." That was proving to be a lesson for both his young apprentices.

The Jedi turned his attention to his other student once more. "Believe Leia." He said.

She looked at him and back at the large stone that was blocking the entrance of the ancient Jedi Temple. Closing her eyes, she reached out her hands and took a deep breath. Anakin saw her mouthing the word _believe_ and he smiled.

A sound came out of the stone and, a few seconds later, it moved slightly. Leia took another deep breath and tried again and slowly the rock floated through the air and the entrance was revealed at last. She moved it to her right; her eyebrows were furrowed just like her mother's did when she was deeply concentrated. And then she dropped it, causing a loud thud that echoed on the mountains around them.

Anakin smiled. "See? I told you."

Leia squealed. "I did it!" She raised her arms up in the air and ran to hug her brother.

"Come on, let's go inside." Anakin said softly and awfully regretful that he had to cut the celebration short. But they were on a mission and soon night would fall.

They walked inside the old Temple, one of the many across the Galaxy they had been searching for. Slowly but surely they had been succeeding; one after the other they found and searched. Gathering the missing pieces of knowledge and wisdom of the Jedi of Old was more important than ever if there was ever to be a Jedi Order once more.

Together they searched those halls and together they found what they had been looking for. A great room filled with holocrons from floor to ceiling, untouched for centuries. Anakin smiled, pleased with the discovery.

"This is the biggest one so far!" Said Luke, marveled by the sight.

The older Jedi nodded and began running his fingers through the shelves. He closed his eyes and let the light that sealed the devices invade him.

Thousands of years of wisdom surrounded them. He looked around him and the Force showed him that Temple full of Jedi whose names he would never know. It told him that that was the place; it began waving around it and tugging at his mind.

They explored it further, it seemed untouched. Like it had stopped in time, as if it was waiting for the ones that would come behind them. As if it was waiting for them.

Anakin ran his hands on the dusty walls and the Force flowed through them; what a deep connection that place and the Force had. It waved around them freely and wildly, like a river that runs down a mountain.

It was beautiful.

 _Home._ The Force told him softly. _Home._

So far in the Unknown Regions, the Skywalkers had finally found the new home of the Jedi Order.

He could imagine that place being filled with life and children once more; with Masters, Knights and Padawans. Their light reviving those old stone walls. Anakin sat on the dusty floor and closed his eyes, basking in the joy of the Force and making it his own.

"I think we have found what we were looking for." He whispered to his students, who had now settled silently on both his sides. They dared not speak loudly, for fear it would disturb the peace of their new Temple.

It was only the beginning of their mission; there was still so much to do.

But he knew that, as any quest worth undertaking, it will never truly end.

_**The End** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! And I can't believe it's over. This story was such a journey to write. It was a whirlwind of emotions. To write a broken man being mended was quite something and I can honestly say I loved every moment of it. It was a story that didn't take much editing because I always wanted it to feel as raw as possible and I think I succeeded.
> 
> Thank you everyone for all of the love you have shown for it, for sticking around and for leaving me your feedback. I hope you enjoyed reading it at least half as much as I have enjoyed writing. And I hope people continue to enjoy it in the future as it silently sits in this archive.
> 
> Now, I will finish my other story! (finally) in case you want to check it out. And I have a few ideas. (Maybe even a sequel brewing in case I feel it's good enough.)
> 
> Please enjoy, leave your reviews (present and future) and, if you have any question at all about the story or the characters, feel free to pm me and ask.
> 
> For now, goodbye my lovely readers. :)


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